


Stranded

by kittykatknits



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon, But he's still a bastard, Childbirth, F/M, Fluff, I Don't Even Know, Lightly Salted then No Salt, Pregnancy, R plus L equals J, R plus L equals J is known by everyone, Salty Teens, Smut, stranded on a desert island
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-22
Updated: 2017-11-10
Packaged: 2018-09-26 04:59:22
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 25
Words: 69,405
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9863948
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kittykatknits/pseuds/kittykatknits
Summary: Sansa sets sail for King's Landing to marry Prince Joffrey with her bastard cousin Jon to serve as her personal shield. Then, disaster strikes and the two of them flee only to find themselves lost on a deserted island. Stranded, Sansa and Jon find themselves growing closer.Basically, this is Salty Teens meets The Blue Lagoon. Or, if you haven't seen the movie, they are literally stranded alone together on a deserted island.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This story will be drawing upon the 1980 version with Brooke Shields and the Lifetime movie that came out a couple years ago. I've got an odd affection for the remake.
> 
> I can't believe I wrote this.

Prologue

The raven from King’s Landing had arrived today, the sealed contents untouched. It was the Baratheon sigil, the king would only be writing for one reason. Catelyn sought out her husband in the godswood, certain she would find Ned by the heart tree. As she had expected, he was alone, Ice in his hands, lost in communion with his old gods. The godwood were a foreign place to her, the face forbidding and cruel. Catelyn wished they were discussing her daughter’s future elsewhere.

“My Lady?” He looked upon her, his face long and solemn, eyes kind and loving.

“A raven came, from King’s Landing.” She handed him the rolled parchment.

Ned broke the seal and read its contents. “As we expected. Our daughter will be the next queen of Westeros.”

The news was everything Catelyn could have dreamed of. Sansa was betrothed to Prince Joffrey, heir to the throne. Her eldest was a lady at three, always so courteous and eager to please. Catelyn knew Sansa would grow into a woman even more beautiful than she ever was. She would make a dutiful wife and loving mother.

“She will be alone in King’s Landing, away from all she knows, Ned.” Proud as she was, Catelyn felt worry and fear for her daughter too.

Ned looked at her. “She will not go alone, I promise you. I will send a personal guard of fifty men with her along with the Septa. Robert agreed, Jon Snow will come as her personal guard and shield, to take vows as a member of the kingsguard. She will be protected, Catelyn, you have my word. I will arrange for them to travel via ship from White Harbor rather than travel the kingsroad.”

******

Sansa would be leaving Winterfell today and she was ready, King’s Landing awaited her. She had long wished to live in the south, in a world with knights asking their lady’s favor before jousts, singers entertaining at feasts, and a court of beautiful ladies and handsome lords. Sansa had never met Prince Joffrey but she knew he would love her. She would be his queen and give him beautiful sons, just like in the stories.

Her bastard cousin would be going at father’s insistence, to join the kingsguard and be her sworn shield and that was a story too. She could pretend he was Prince Aemon the Dragonknight who secretly loved Queen Naerys, except Jon Snow didn't love her nor was he beautiful with silver hair and purple eyes. Sansa supposed he liked her well enough even if they rarely spoke. Jon preferred to spend his days with Robb, either in the training yard or hunting. She had seen him with swords though, he was graceful and strong, like a knight should be. Sansa thought he would look almost handsome dressed in the white of the kingsguard even if he wasn't golden like her prince would be. She had seen his chest and legs before, covered in dark hair, even darker than the curls on his head, and nicely muscled too.

She was in one of the courtyards by the east gate preparing to depart. They would be leaving soon, to travel via barge down the White Knife. Jon and Robb were directing all the activity, loading trunks and supplies for their travels, much of it her wardrobe, all very necessary for a future queen.

“Sansa.”

She turned at the sound of Robb’s voice, he had approached her unawares. Sansa gave him a big smile and reached out for a gentle embrace.

“Not today, Sansa.” Her big brother picked her up and swung her around.

“I will miss you.” Sansa meant it, she loved Robb most dearly.

“Be careful in King’s Landing, Sansa. Trust Jon to keep you safe. Just remember, if anything goes wrong or Joffrey is not the gallant prince we believe he is, come home. Two hundred archers at moat cailin will protect us from anything the Lannisters or Baratheons might do.”

For the first time, Sansa felt as if she might cry. Robb had always been there to protect her but now she was leaving.

“I love you, Robb. Come visit, promise me you’ll come and see us.”

“I will, Sansa. I promise.”

Sansa looked at him for the last time, at the snowflakes melting in his hair, the cold drips of water falling down his cheeks and neck.

Soon enough, they were on the barge, on their way to White Harbor. She talked to Jon sometimes, mostly he seemed interested in learning about the ship and how it worked. Sansa found it awfully dull. She was not really surprised at how he spent his days, Jon Snow enjoyed all manner of dull things. She chose to spend her time with Septa Mordane and her sewing needle, making favors and other silken gifts for her beloved Prince Joffrey.

Eventually, they arrived in White Harbor where Manderly played host while their ship was prepared. They had a great feast with singers and even a mummer’s show, entirely suitable for their Lady and future queen. Jon seemed mostly bored, following her around sometimes or sparring with the Manderly knights. Soon, they were boarding _The White Wolf_ and preparing their final journey to King’s Landing. Sansa knew her song had finally begun.

***

Jon liked the ship’s name, _The White Wolf_ was a fitting choice for their journey, it felt almost his own vessel. He wondered if Sansa would make him a personal standard, a white wolf on a field of grey. He could ask, Sansa was always eager to please.

Every morning, Jon expected to wake up from this adventure as if it was a dream. In truth, he had not wanted to go. He wanted to stay in the north, in Winterfell, with Arya and Robb. Technically cousins, they felt more a sister and brother than Sansa ever had. Always correct with her courtesies, she had introduced him as her bastard cousin on more than one occasion. Now, he was going south to be her shield and a member of the kingsguard. It felt strange, he would be a man in white when black had always been his color.

Eventually, they were settled in cabins, her Septa in with her, likely thinking to protect her virtue. Jon wasn’t sure what he should do for much of the time, he’d felt a fool while in White Harbor, following Sansa around like a pathetic lapdog.

Jon enjoyed their time at sea, the salty wind in his hair and the movement of the ship in the waves. He particularly enjoyed seeing Septa Mordane sick up all the time, bent over the side of their ship, her skin pale and damp from old sweat. The days passed quickly as they went south, passing the Three Sisters and the Fingers, around the Vale and on to Gulltown. Jon chose to spend time with the Captain and his crew, soaking up any knowledge they were generous enough to share with him. He was not so foolish to consider himself a seamen but his understanding of area tides and navigation grew several times over.

It was a couple days past Gulltown that everything went wrong. For once, he was below with Sansa when the muffled screams could be heard. They were the screams of frightened men, he could hear “fire” and “smoke” from above.

“Jon?” Her voice was a quiver, her eyes wide in fear.

“Stay here. I’ll go take a look. We will be alright.” Jon was not sure which of them he was meant to reassure.

He went above, saw smoke seeping up from below and flames growing quickly. Jon could either assist the crew, make an effort to save an already dying ship or he could save Sansa. He left the men to their fate, quickly returning to her.

“Get your things, we’re leaving.”  His voice came out harsher than he meant it.

He gathered a saddle bag he had taken with, quickly throwing in skins of water and wine, a pair of breeches, a dagger, and a few other items. He stopped and looked at Sansa. She had not moved, just watched him, her body quaking in fear.

“Are we going to die?” She said, her voice a tremble. He could see the beginning of tears in her eyes.

“Not if we leave this ship.”

He did not bother waiting for a response, grabbing her hand and yanking her from the room with more force than he had meant. “Time to go.”

Jon led Sansa to one of the small boats kept for emergencies, saw the rest of the crew preparing to abandon ship. Any doubts he had were gone. Jon made no effort to waste time explaining, picking Sansa up and practically throwing her into one of the boats. He climbed in after, saddle bag in tow.

There was little else for them to do now, Jon did not know if the gods could see them here in the south, away from the trees. A few lessons on tides and stars were of no help now, their only chance lay in stumbling upon land.

The two of them drifted for hours, Sansa rarely speaking. Jon took her in, she was listless and her skin had gone pale. It was not the first time he had seen someone in shock, only there was nothing he could do for her.

“Jon, I’m thirsty,” she whispered, voice so low he could hardly hear.

That annoyed him, there was little to be done in the middle of the ocean, he was thirsty too. “Aye, m’lady, I’ll go fetch you a pail of water.”

“You’re mean.”

“You’re spoiled.”

“I hate you.”

Jon refused to believe this was his fate, to die of thirst in the middle of the ocean, alone with the ever-proper Sansa Stark.  After a moment, he remembered the skin in his saddle bag, they had water to drink.

“Here, Sansa. Drink.” He handed the skin to her.

She took several large gulps before handing the water back. Her color was better, that was to the good at least.

“I don’t hate you, Jon, I’m sorry.”

“It’s alright, Sansa. I know you don’t hate me. Come here.”

They moved closer, leaning into each other. Time passed slowly, the sky eventually growing dark. After awhile, they fell victim to the gentle lull of the waves, drifting off to sleep together.

Jon was the first to wake in the morning, the early light pulling him from a dreamless sleep. He looked at Sansa, curled up and burrowed into his side. All around them was an endless sea of water, at least until he turned his head. Jon’s eyes grew big, he gave a loud bellow of joy. They would not be dying of thirst after all.

“Sansa! Wake up!” He began shaking her, eager for her to see.

She blinked several times before responding, “What is it?”

He held out his hand, pointing. “Look!”

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  



	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to suggestions from a couple comments in the first chapter, I ended up watching the Brooke Shields episode of Quantum Leap a few times. I'll be drawing upon that as well.

Sansa stood upon the beach, letting herself feel hope again, grateful that Jon had not gotten them killed after all. They could be rescued now and she would be with her Prince Joffrey soon. She knew they were somewhere in the south, the beach was a mixture of rocky and fine sand. The land itself was forested, a mix of pine and sentinels.

“Jon, where are we?” Sansa had made sure to learn all Westeros heraldry, surely she could direct him to the local lord.

“North of Dragonstone, south of Cracklaw Point, I believe. We slept for several hours, Sansa, we could be closer to Essos or further north towards the Vale. More than that, I could not say.” At least he had the grace to look sorry.

Sansa decided Jon Snow was proving to be a sore disappointment as a sworn shield. He had dragged their little boat off the beach, attempting to hide it under the canopy of trees behind some shrubbery. She watched him going through the items he had taken from their ship, she saw a dagger and rope amongst other items. Sansa wished he had thought to bring a brush.

“Well then, we can walk along the beach. I'm quite certain we’ll happen upon a holdfast soon enough, or maybe even a tavern.” Sansa had never been in a tavern before, it sounded deliciously wicked.

Jon looked at her, the exasperation plain on his face, before sighing loudly. “No, we cannot.” He paused to point towards something in the trees. “We don’t know where we are, Sansa. See over there, several hills above the tree line, I want to look before we go anywhere. “

“Climb hills? I don’t want to climb hills, I want to walk on the beach,” she said, her annoyance clear with every word.

He gave her one of his sullen glares, replying, “I was right last night, you are spoiled, a spoiled little princess.”

That was not true, Sansa knew it wasn’t. Her mother had always told her she was very sweet and dutiful, that she would make a good queen. Sansa was not spoiled, Jon was just jealous.

“You’re jealous, you always have been. You’re just jealous because you’re a bastard,” she responded, only screaming a little bit. Sansa was being honest.

Jon said nothing for the longest time but the clenching of his jaw and reddening face was proof enough of anger. Sansa stayed still, facing him, waiting for the yelling to begin. She had many prepared responses to whatever he may say.

“This bastard saved your life. This bastard has food and water for you,” he yelled right back at her.

He handed her more of the water and an orange. She took both gratefully, she was thirsty and had not eaten since the ship.

“Sansa, we don’t know where we are. If this is the Vale, there may be mountain clans. Do you know what they would do? Or Essos, there are slavers in Essos. I’m going towards those hills.” He paused for a moment, putting on his sword belt and drinking some of the water. “You can come with me if you wish. Or, you can stay here. Alone.” He finished the last few words with a sharp bite to his tongue.

She could tell, Jon expected her to come with him, to do as he said. She would not, she would wait right by the boat while he went to take a stroll in the woods. “I will stay here.”

Jon closed his eyes and gave a dramatic sigh but said nothing, merely turning to walk away further into the forest. Sansa thought she heard him mumble “stubborn fool” but that was impossible, she was not a fool.

After he left, Sansa went to sit in the boat, waiting patiently for him to return. She finished her orange and took another sip of the water before noticing the quiet that surrounded her. Then, Sansa saw some of the shrubbery moving and could hear the scurrying of small creatures. Or bears. She changed her mind.

“JON!” Sansa got up and ran after Jon, yelling out his name.

He appeared suddenly before her, catching her in his arms. “Sansa, are you alright? I’d wager anyone within ten leagues of us could hear you screaming my name.”

“I’m well, Jon, why would I not be? I merely wished to join you on your walk.” It was the truth, or near enough to make no matter.

“Come then.” He let go of her then but held out a hand, intending for her to take it.

She took it and they walked a few paces.

“Jon?” He looked at her, slowing his pace so it was easier to match his steps. “Jon, I’m sorry you’re a bastard.”  She hoped to make him feel better.

He only gave her another one of his ridiculous sighs before replying, “Thank you, Sansa.”

They continued on in silence, him leading her through the trees. The forest was not densely populated, the pines grew far apart from one another. She could hear the birds singing above them and saw wild flowers growing in patches around them. If Sansa was not so frightened, she would call the forest a beautiful enchantment.

Eventually, he stopped them and looked at her again. “Sansa, what kind of shoes do you have on?”

“Shoes?”

“Yes, shoes.” He did not explain, merely squatting down and inspecting her boots. “Good, I almost expected you to be wearing silk slippers. Your dress though, that may be a problem.”

“My dress?” She did not understand, her dress was a very pretty blue silk.

“We will go slow, I’ll help you up. Come on.”

It took only a short while for Sansa to understand his concern. She had never climbed a hill before and planned to never do so again. Sansa would never admit it, but Jon carried her more than she walked up the hill. She decided it was more a mountain than a hill, he was wrong about that, with several dangerous spots where an innocent girl could fall to her death. When they finally reached the top, she was sore, her feet hurt, and Sansa was certain her hair looked a fright.

Jon took off the dark grey doublet he was wearing and laid it flat on a nearby rock. “Sansa, will you rest for a moment? I want to look around.”

Her eyes grew wide in fear, she did not want him to leave her again. Sansa said nothing, moving to sit where he directed her.

He came up to her, briefly taking one of her hands in both of his. “I will stay where you can see me.”

She sat patiently, waiting for him. After a few moments, Sansa picked the pretty yellow flowers growing nearby and began weaving them together. Jon wandered around, looking off at the sky and trees. She hoped he would be done soon, she wished to return to the beach so they could find help.

“Sansa?” He had come up to her, kneeling at her feet. “Look at me.”

She set the flowers next to her, meeting his gaze. “Is something wrong? Will it be a long walk to a village?”

He looked frightened, she did not like that at all. She had never seen Jon frightened before. He was like Robb, she had always thought him strong and fearless.

“No, sweet girl.” He paused to take both of her hands in his. “Sansa, we’re on an island. We’re stranded.”

She did not like that word, she did not like that word at all. “I don’t understand.”

His gaze was full of sympathy. “There is no village, Sansa. No holdfast or castle. It’s just us, we are here alone.”

“I see.” Slowly, she began to realize what Jon was telling her. She would not be leaving to be wed, she may never even meet Joffrey. Sansa may never even see her beloved mother and father again. She felt a sharp pain in her stomach, suddenly finding it hard to breath. She wanted to go home, back to Winterfell, where her mother would brush her hair in the evenings. But, all she had was Jon Snow, her bastard cousin. He did not love her, not like her parents did or Joffrey would have.

“Jon, I wish to go back to the boat. Take me back to the boat”

****

Her skin was more than pale, it had taken on a pallor that worried him. Jon knew she would be upset, had expected tears or for her to even yell at him. He would have preferred that to her sudden silence.

“Jon, I wish to go back to the boat. Take me back to the boat.”

He considered arguing with her or making an attempt to get her to rest awhile longer before deciding against it. If she wished to return to the boat, he would take her. He stood, holding out his hand to her once again. Jon understood her fear, he felt it too. He had not wished to go to King’s Landing, only making the journey at Lord Eddard’s behest. Jon would have been content to spend the entirety of his days at Winterfell, with Robb and Arya.

“Come, take my hand again. We will go down the same way we went up, just follow me.”

Just as before, he carried her as much as she walked on her own. He was grateful though, the journey down went much more quickly than the ascent. Sansa never said a word, following his directions without questions. That worried him too. Eventually, they were back on level ground but Sansa did not let go of his hand, her grip still firm. She did not leave his side until they reached the row boat, climbing inside of it and sitting down.

Jon was content to let her be, he had his own set of concerns. They only had two oranges left and enough water to last another day at most. They needed to think of shelter and the odds of a rescue. He suspected Sansa was still mourning the loss of her beloved Prince Joffrey.

He walked up to her, she did not seem to notice him. “Sansa? Can I help you?” Jon did not know what he could do but her silence was growing to worry him, it felt oppressive.

She looked up at him briefly before standing up. “This is your fault,” she yelled at him.

Jon had not expected that. “My fault? I saved your life. If not for me, you would be swimming with the fishes.” He made sure to raise his voice to the same level as hers. If she wished for them to shout at each other, he would honor that desire.

Sansa gave no response, merely looked at him. After a moment, the tears Jon had long been expecting finally came. Jon did not know what to do, he had little experience with weeping girls. In Winterfell, he spent hardly any time with Sansa and Arya would sooner fight than cry.

After a moment, Jon decided she needed a distraction, a way to forget their situation, even if it was for only a short while. He pondered what to do, knowing she had always loved her songs and stories, tales of knights and fair maidens. He couldn’t sing Florian and Jonquil and had no wish to play Prince of Dragonflies to her Jenny of Oldstones. But, Jon could be Aemon the Dragonknight for her. The knight had loved and protected his queen, Sansa would like that.

He took a step closer until their feet were almost touching and then reached out with his hand, lightly pinching her chin so she looked up at him. “Before we left Winterfell, I swore to your father and Robb that I would take care of you, keep you safe. I meant it then and I mean it now. Do you know the words?” As he spoke, Jon began to unsheath his sword.

“The words?”

He did not answer, pushing forward before his courage fled. Jon knelt before her, placing his sword at her feet, and bowed his head. “I, Jon Snow, swear to you, Lady Sansa of House Stark, to shield your back and keep your counsel and give my life for yours, if need be. I swear it by the old gods and the new.”

He looked up at her, the crying had stopped, that was good. Her eyes were red, her auburn hair mussed, and there was a smear of dirt upon a cheek. Even so, Sansa looked beautiful in that moment. She would have made Joffrey a good queen. Any man would have been lucky to have her for a wife.  

“And I vow that you shall always have a place by my hearth and meat and mead at my table, and pledge to ask no service of you that might bring you dishonor. I swear it by the old gods and the new. Arise.” Her voice had steadily grown in confidence the longer she spoke.

Jon stood before her and reached up to wipe her remaining tears away with his thumb. The earlier pallor was gone, she even smiled at him. It would not last, they would be arguing again soon, likely within the next hour. But, for now, Jon took in her smile, feeling oddly grateful for it.

“Should we eat our oranges and decide what to do next?”

“Yes, please, I would like that,” she said, happily.

“Good.”

Jon still worried over their lack of food and shelter, wondering how to best tell her of their situation. He knew there was small game on the island and likely edible plants too, he was not without hope. They would need to find water as well. In the end, he decided to remain silent a while longer, he was not yet ready for Sansa’s smile to disappear.

  
  
  
  
  
  



	3. Chapter 3

Jon watched her eating the last of her orange, the fruit juice falling from her lips and down her chin. Her pink tongue slowly slid across her bottom lip, catching every bit of sweet liquid that remained. It was almost certainly scandalous on the proper Sansa Stark.

He had yet to tell her more of the problems facing them, not wanting to shatter their momentary peace. They were sitting against the boat, bodies close together, he could feel her hip against his own. It occurred to him that Jory Cassel would be the one saving their lives, assuming they did not kill each other first. The man had loved hunting and had taken both him and Robb into the wolfswood since they were young, teaching them the use of a bow, traps, and even how to start a fire without the use of flint. If he ever got the chance, Jon would owe the man a great debt.

Jon imagined Sansa attempting to skin a rabbit. Likely, she would cry and beg the dead creature’s forgiveness. Either that, or she’d insist he do it while calling him a horrible monster or some such. He found himself laughing over the image.

“What has you laughing?” She was still wearing that same pleasant grin she’d been wearing since he swore to her. Jon would do it every day if it kept her temper away.

“Skinning rabbits. There’s small game here, we’ll be wanting fresh meat soon.” It was close enough to the truth, or at least near enough to make no matter.

She wrinkled her nose in disgust at him. “I don’t want to kill rabbits. We will eat fruit.” She said this as if it was an obvious truth, if only he had the wits to see it.

Jon sighed before responding, “Sansa, we don’t even know if there is fruit on this island. Even if there is, we can’t just eat peaches and berries.”

“I like peaches.”

Jon dearly hoped to find a peach tree somewhere, he’d force her to eat the damn thing clean. He spoke no further on it, she would only argue with him and their efforts were best spent seeing to immediate needs. They had spent the previous night on the open ocean, they’d manage a couple more sleeping on a beach. It was food and water they needed to figure out first. Without those, they had no hope.

“Sansa, we need to find food, whether peaches or rabbits or something else. We can’t just sit here on the beach today.” He had some ideas on where to look, climbing that hill had turned out to be a rather clever idea.

“I’m not stupid, Jon, I know that. We’ll find fruit, I know we will.” Jon didn’t think she was stupid, just spoiled. Sansa was beautiful, always had been, even as a very young girl. She could sing, play the bells, knew how to sew and embroider, and went through life with the confidence of a woman of very high birth. She had been doted on as the eldest daughter of Winterfell and sometimes he had heard Lord Stark’s men call her the princess of the north.

“You’re right, we will. Should we go find some?” He briefly squeezed her knee in an effort to be reassuring.

“Jon, what about water? We’ll be thirsty tomorrow,” Sansa said, worried.

He looked at her, she was frightened again. Her eyes had wided some, brow furrowed, and her lips had pulled into a small frown. He realized she understood the precariousness of their situation as well as he did, had been worrying over it too. Only, Sansa had even less knowledge than him.

“No, none of that. I won’t have you worrying. I heard running water earlier. It was faint enough, but I heard it, at least before you started yelling out my name.” He kissed her cheek then, feeling rather proud of himself. Jon had managed not to scream at her for awhile now and thought he was doing a rather fine job at being her sworn shield.

“I did not yell. I spoke loudly because you never listen to anything I say.” Well, that was a lie.

“You did and I do too listen.” His voice grew louder with every passing word, Jon could not stop himself.

“You do not,” she yelled back at him.

“I do too.” The level of his voice matched her own.

“You’re horrible.”

“Aye, I’m a monster. Shall we go then?” Jon stood up and held out his hand to help her to her feet.

Sansa took his hand, saying nothing. She did not need to, the set of her jaw told him enough. He led her back into the trees, setting off in an easterly direction. Jon did not miss how tightly she held onto him, the girl was frightened even if she refused to admit it.

They walked in silence, he kept them to a slower pace, Sansa was not used to physical activity and those skirts of hers were not at all ideal for moving through forest. Jon took note of the dried wood and kindling on the forest floor. They would need to make use of that later. It had been many moons since he last attempted to start a fire without flint but he was sure he could do so again. It would likely take a while though. 

The forest was a mix of pines and evergreens, the soil was rich and dark. Jon would not admit it to Sansa but he had a strong suspicion that berry bushes, likely blueberries, could be found somewhere. He had once heard they grew well around this area. If Jon remembered his lessons with Maester Luwin well enough, they were further to the south, closer to Dragonstone than the Vale, at least as much as the vegetation offered as a hint.

Suddenly, Sansa pulled her hand from his and began to run forward. He had been right then.

“Jon, look! Look, so many of them.” She turned to face him, her face practically beaming. Sansa looked truly radiant, even with the self-satisfied grin she wore.

 

******

Sansa had known she would find some, she just knew it.

“Jon, look! Look, so many of them.” She flashed Jon a brief smile, showing him she had been right, they would find fruit.

She ran further away from him, toward the closest apple tree to pick one. They were the most beautiful apples she had ever seen, light red and pink with little gold streaks in them. Sansa held one as if it was treasure, handing it to Jon first. She felt rather proud of herself in that moment.

“Here, have one. Aren’t they the loveliest apples you’ve ever seen?” Sansa thought so, it was entirely fitting that she would lead them to pretty apples.

He gave her a rather queer expression she didn’t understand. “They’re apples, Sansa.” He bit into it, hardly sparing the fruit a glance. “Get yourself one.”

Sansa felt hurt at his words. She was not wrong for wanting to admire their beauty. She said nothing, quietly picking one for herself and eating it, thoroughly enjoying  the tart sweetness in every crisp bite. Jon was already eating a second.

It was not an orchard they had discovered, just a few apple trees in a small field. Sansa may know little of farming but she did know that even three trees was a wonderful bounty for just the two of them. She found it magical, these trees had slowly grown large, bearing fruit year after year,  waiting to save Jon and Sansa.

She thought back to when he swore his vows to her, it was just as if he was Prince Aemon the Dragonknight swearing to protect and love his Queen Naerys. She had been frightened in that moment and she knew he was trying to make her feel better. Sansa would say it was the most romantic moment in all her life, except it was with her cousin Jon Snow. He wouldn’t think it was romantic at all. Jon would only yell at her again if she told him, so Sansa kept quiet. She had already decided to pretend, they may be stranded on an island together, but she could still imagine they were in a song, one of their very own.

She watched as Jon took off his doublet again and began placing apples on it. “Grab some, we’ll take enough to last the rest of the day. No more.”

“We should take more, there’s lots and lots.” Jon wasn’t speaking sense, the trees were full of apples, surely they could  take as many as they wanted.

“No. We only take what we need, the trees will still be here tomorrow,” he replied, sternly. Sansa did not like that, it was not how he was supposed to speak with her.

She looked at the little pile of apples he had created, he was doing a very poor job collecting them. “I want more,” she said, without any trace of stubbornness in her voice. Sansa began to take some from the nearest tree, using her skirts to hold on to her own little collection.

She could feel Jon’s eyes on her, watching her movements. After a moment, he picked up his doublet and turned to walk away.

“Where are you going?”

He paused, turned around, and looked at her. “Rabbit hunting.” He said nothing else, continuing on his way.

Sansa began to grow angry with him, Jon was ruining it. Jon Snow ruined everything. She ceased taking apples and hurried after him, afraid she would not be able to find him. Sansa did not want to get lost in the woods by herself.

“Jon?”

“Quiet, don’t say anything. Or move either.” He put a hand out to stop her walking.

“Why? I can talk if I want to.” Jon wasn’t making any sense again.

“Don’t you hear it? There is running water somewhere close by.” He said nothing else for a few minutes before turning his head towards the left and pointing. “That way.”

Jon began walking again, leaving her no choice but to follow. After a little while, Sansa could hear it again, the soft babble of moving water. Eventually, they stumbled upon a pool of water, a small brook emptying into it. The water was crisp and clear, she could see all the way to the bottom. There were beautiful blue flowers along one edge of the pool and rich, green grass all around. The center of the pool had a large flat stone one could sit upon. It was an enchantment.

“Jon, isn’t it beautiful? This is just like a story, could you imagine Jonquil in her pool of water? Or, you could be a knight, saving his lady from a horrible fate and bringing her here to keep her safe?” Sansa had not meant to tell Jon any of this but this place felt magical. They were trapped and stranded far away from everything, yet here they found this beautiful oasis, rich and green, with the moving water playing lovely music.

“It’s water, Sansa. We need it to drink. I won’t play monsters-and-maidens with you or come into my castle or whatever other game you think up.” He gave her an annoyed sigh then.

Sansa made sure first, he had set the apples down and was standing right next to the deepest part of the water. She could do it, she could. Sansa reached out with both arms and pushed him into the water as hard as she could.

She picked up two handfuls of mud while he sputtered about and began climbing  out of the water.

“What was that for?” He yelled at her.

“You’re awful. You ruined it.” She promptly threw one handful of mud and watched it land on his chest and then threw the other, making sure it hit him in the face.

Jon reached out, faster than she thought possible, and then she felt the splash of cold all around her. Sansa struggled to gain balance and stand but her skirts had grown heavy and kept getting in the way. Suddenly she felt hands on her, pulling her up to the surface.

Jon had his arms around her waist, holding her so she would not fall again. “Are you alright?” Trickles of water fell from his hair and down his cheeks. All of the mud was gone.

“I’m cold and all our clothes are wet.” Sansa could already feel herself shivering, the silk of her pretty dress now just clung limply to her.

“Me too. Come on, I’ll help you out.” He pulled some of the hair away from her face.

He kept an arm around her waist, helping to steady her while they climbed out of the pond together. They stood in silence for a moment, the water dripping off them, their clothes hanging limply against their skin. Then, she realized what he was doing.

“Jon, you can’t do that, it’s not proper.” Somehow, she managed not to yell at him.

He paused a moment, stopping himself from taking his tunic off the rest of the way. “Our clothes are wet, Sansa. I’m not going to wear wet clothes, we’ll freeze.” He continued, taking off his tunic the rest of the way and then began unlacing his breeches.

Sansa turned around, facing away from him, trying desperately to ignore the cold slowly seeping into her.

“You need to take that dress off too. You’re shivering, Sansa.”

She ignored him.

“I won’t look at anything. Will you take the damned thing off?”.

He was right, she was cold and growing colder. Sansa was starting to feel miserable. “Do you promise you won’t look? Can you help untie the laces in the back? If you help I can pull it off by myself.”

Jon said nothing in response but she felt his hands on her back, pulling the laces of her gown off.

“You’re looking.”

“I’m not looking.”

Eventually, she managed to take off the dress but the thin chemise she wore underneath was damp as well. “I’m still cold. This is wet too.”

He said nothing for a moment but she could hear him moving around. “Take that thing off too. I have my back to you and my eyes closed. You can put my doublet on, it should cover you well enough.”

She pulled the final item of clothing off her and grabbed his doublet, drawing it over herself as quickly as she could. “You can open your eyes now.”

He looked her over but said nothing, placing their little apple harvest in her chemise and tying it together. She grabbed their wet clothes and bundled them all together as well. Sansa worked very hard to only look at his face, she mostly succeeded.

He held out his hand for her to take. “Come on, let’s go back to the beach.”

They kept quiet, Sansa trusting Jon to know where they were going. Eventually, the beach appeared and their little boat with it. Sansa spread their clothes along it, hoping they would dry quickly.

Jon set down their apples and then began moving about, picking up sticks on the ground. Sansa thought she did a rather good job of not noticing the muscles in his back or legs.

“What are you doing?” She could not imagine how a pile of sticks would help them.

“I’m hoping to build a fire. Jory Cassel showed me. It’s been a long while but I think I remember how.” He paused to show her the sticks in his hands. “This is kindling.”

Sansa said nothing, walking towards the water to watch the waves roll along and lap at the beach. It felt peaceful, watching the water, the blue and white tips gently striking the sand before moving out to the ocean again.

After a while, Sansa began to notice black dots bobbing along in the water, slowly growing closer to her. She turned to Jon, calling out his name and watched as he walked towards her.

“Do you see that? What is it?” She pointed towards the black dots in the distance.

He looked out at the horizon for a moment before turning to her, flashing the biggest grin she had ever seen on the solemn Jon Snow. “That, sweet girl, is the rest of our ship coming to join us.” Then suddenly, he kissed her cheek again before picking her up and swinging her around.

“Jon?”

“What is it?”

“You’re still naked.”

He laughed but set her back down next to him. “Well, not exactly. I do have my small clothes on.”

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  



	4. Chapter 4

“Well, not exactly. I do have my small clothes on.”  He enjoyed it too, the weather here, so much further south than Winterfell, felt cloylingly hot. The waves lapped at his feet, gently licking his toes before returning to the ocean, the salty breeze stroked across his bared skin, and played with the curls on this head.

Sansa would need to get used to it, Jon had no intention of putting on all those clothes again. She would be scandalized, no doubt, but there was no septa or lady mother for her to run too. Jon found that  rather liberating.

“Jon, I think it’s wood. Is that what happened to our ship?” She looked at him, expression confused.

“I think the same tides that brought us here brought us the wreckage too.” Jon began pulling off his small clothes, they were the only dry clothing he had left, and began wading into the water.

“What are you doing?”

He looked back at Sansa, her stare wandering between his face and chest, not sure where to cast her eyes. “Isn’t it obvious? Swimming. You can stay here if you want.”

Jon took several more steps out until the water reached his waist, feeling Sansa’s gaze on his backside the entire time. He could not have shocked her more than if he’d suddenly climbed on an ice dragon and flown away. Jon began to swim towards what looked to be a small wooden chest nearby.

Reaching it, he realized it was the same chest he had seen in the captain’s room, the man used it to carry personal items. A few paces further away, a wooden chair lay on its side, gently floating towards him. Past it, he could see several items, another small chest, a cup, a sodden cloak, and more. It wasn’t much, Jon knew, but for now, he considered it a bounty.

He swam back towards the small box he had first seen to grab onto it before returning to Sansa. She had stepped out towards him, the ocean water almost reaching her knees. Jon took her in as she stood there, waiting for him. Sansa’s hair hung loose, the breeze gently lifting it behind her, the sun glinting off the red in her auburn tresses. Jon had always known his cousin was a lovely girl but he was strongly reminded of that looking at her now.

“I brought you pirate’s treasure.” He thought she would like that, a bit of pretend while they found out what was hidden away in their newly found chest. Sansa had been upset ever since the apple trees and Jon was at a loss to figure out why. They had found food, she should have been grateful.

He grabbed her hand, leading them back on the beach and out of the water.

She pulled away, turning her back to him. “You should dress, Jon. It’s not proper.”

“Proper can go hang. Who are you going to tell?” She remained silent. “Ignore me then, have fun with that.” Jon shrugged his shoulders and sat down in the sand, eager to see what he had discovered.

An initial glance proved a disappointment. Some letters, a map of the waters around Dorne, a book of poetry, a pair of scissors. One item caught his attention, it would make Sansa talk to him again.

“Sansa? I have something for you.” More silence. Jon was beginning to feel annoyed. “Will you stop being a stubborn fool for one moment and look at me. I want to give you something.

Jon could practically hear her wrinkle her nose at him  “Are you decent?”

He thought on his answer. Jon was going right back in the water, this would prove easier . “Aye, I’m decent. Come on.”

Apparently, Sansa did not agree as she started yelling again, “You’re still naked, Jon. You can’t do that, you can’t walk around naked all the time. It’s not proper.”

“Quit blathering and look what I found...ooopmhh…”  Jon could not finish as Sansa practically threw herself at him, knocking them both to the ground.

He was stuck with Sansa practically sitting on his legs, using the brush he had found in her hair. It was a plainer design than the one he had seen her use before but looked relatively new , it should serve well enough.

She looked down at him, all regal and queenly. “Thank you Jon, it will replace the one you forgot to bring with us.”

Jon sighed before huffing out, “Yes, attention to your fripperies should have been my first concern with the ship on fire. Now, get off me, I can’t move.”

She moved off him, sitting in the sand so he could get back up. “I am sorry Jon, I am glad to have it, truly.” Jon was not sure how she did it but somehow Sansa’s apology sounded more like she was forgiving him for failing to secure a brush earlier.

“Will you look at the rest, see what else we have? I want to go back in the water, bring in a few more items.” He got up and began to walk towards the ocean once again when the thought struck him. Jon was fairly certain it would knock her off balance again.

He turned to her sitting there on the beach, watching as he stepped away. “That chest should keep you busy enough so you can stop looking at my backside, you think I haven’t noticed you looking at me all day?”

Jon ignored Sansa yelling out his name and swam back out, bringing in the chair and other items to shore. He liked swimming here in the sea water this far south, it wasn’t as warm as the hot pools in Winterfell but felt heavenly compared to the Mander and other streams he had used to swim in. Jon had spent many a day with Robb and Theon diving and swimming through the rivers around Winterfell after a morning of fishing or other sport.  As cold and brackish as that water was, Jon desperately missed it. The thought made him think of Robb and Arya again and pain went through him. They would believe him dead, him and Sansa both.

Eventually, he decided to continue working on the fire, it was already well into the day judging from the sun. He had no wish for them to be caught in the dark once the sun went down.  Sansa was carefully looking at everything on the beach, avoiding contact with him. Jon regretted his earlier words, he had embarrassed her. She had been looking at him though.

He picked his small clothes up from the sand, thinking it would mollify her a bit. “Sansa? I’ll put my breeches back on as soon as they dry. I’m wearing my smallclothes again too.”

Sansa ignored him, walking towards the water to pick up another piece of ship debris. Jon felt the frustration growing within him and grabbed her wrist.

She stopped moving, looking at him for the first time since he left the water before forcefully ripping her hand away from him and then shoving his chest. Sansa was stronger than she looked, Jon almost fell down.

“What did you do that for?” He yelled at her.

Sansa had a stubborn set to her jaw and a furrowed brow, an expression Jon realized he had never seen on her before. She was angry and all the force of that emotion was directed towards him. “You’re mean, Jon Snow. You don’t think so, but you are. You were mean to me on the boat, you were going to leave me at the apple trees, you belittled me at the water pool, and you tried to shame me here. You’re mean.”

“Sansa, I am not, I was trying-”

She refused to let him explain. “No, I don’t want to listen to you. You’re mean and you think I’m stupid too. You don’t explain and you keep telling me to stop talking. You haven’t said it yet but I know you think I’m useless. I may not be Arya or even Robb but I’m not useless. You swore to me this morning, you swore to be my sworn shield but you’re not. You’re mean. I don’t want to talk to you anymore.”

Jon stood there, watching her walk away from him.  He felt as if she had knocked the wind from him, he felt ashamed. Sansa began carrying items back towards the boat, paying him no attention at all. He took a couple steps towards her before stopping, it was clear she did not wish to speak with him.

Instead, he went back to the small piles of tinder and kindling he had started on. He needed to create a pit and carve a fire plow. The process would likely take him awhile but that was good, Jon needed time to think. The pressure he had been feeling since that first time he caught the smell of smoke was weighing on him and Sansa’s hurt only made him feel worse.

 

***

 

She left him standing alone without saying anything else. Any further talking from either of them would have meant arguing and Sansa did not wish to argue.

Instead, she put her efforts into taking the wreckage pieces off the beach and further inland towards the boat. One of the chests Jon had found was locked and she could not get into it but Sansa refused to ask him for help. The contents would have to wait.

After a while, Sansa picked up the brush Jon had found for her. She had truly been delighted when he gave it to her but now looking at it brought forth painful memories for her. Sansa’s mother would often dismiss her maids at night to brush her hair. The last night, her mother had removed clips made of ivory and pearls from her hair before brushing it. The clips had been a name day gift from her father but they were almost certainly lying on the bottom of the ocean, never to be seen again.

Sansa pushed that away just as she had all her other thoughts, they would only lead to pain. She quickly checked their clothing,  finding her dress and all his clothes were still damp and likely could not be put back on until the next day.  She thought of her favorite stories, attempting to recapture the magic she had first felt upon discovering her apple trees but it was no use. Sansa was not Jonquil and Jon was just Jon.

She sat on the ground, several paces away from Jon, to watch him attempting  to build a fire. He seemed to be rubbing a little stick against a big stick but nothing was happening, just a growing pile of wood dust. The sky was beginning to darken when she heard Jon give a loud yelp of excitement and then a tiny flame the size of candlelight appeared. He kept placing sticks on it and eventually Sansa could feel the heat even with the distance between her and the fire. Sansa was pleased for him, she could almost feel his pride.

Only a short while later, night was completely upon them and Sansa heard her tummy begin to make a rumbling sound. She ignored it, the apples were closer to Jon and Sansa had no great desire to share a meal with him.

“Sansa, will you come sit with me? I want to show you.” Jon had managed to quietly creep up on her. He stood before her so she mostly saw his legs, glowing orange and yellow in the firelight.

“If you wish.” She ignored his offered hand, following him back to the fire and sat nearby.

“Jory showed me how. The pit should be deeper but it’s the best I could do. The leaves you saw were tinder and the sticks were kindling. I could teach you too, if you wish it. I warn you though, your arms will be sore afterwards.” He smiled at her then moved so they were sitting right up next to each other.  “I didn’t want to take more apples because they will last longer on the tree. That was another lesson Jory drilled into Robb and I, only take what you need so the rest will be there later. “

He paused, waiting to see if she would respond to him. “Thank you Jon, I would like that.” She gave him a gentle smile. Sansa was not angry with him any more, not truly.

Her response must have given him courage as Jon continued, “I don’t think you are stupid or useless, not at all. You make people love you and you charm everyone. You would make a great queen, I know you would, Sansa.”

She began a reply but was stopped by her tummy rumbling once again which only made Jon laugh.

“Here, apples. You’re right about that too, they are lovely, different than the ones we have up north.”

“They’re magic too.”

“Magic?”

Sansa studied him for a moment, wanting to make sure he was not teasing her first. Then, she explained how the trees had been waiting for them, waiting for Jon and Sansa to come so they could be saved.

He kissed her cheek. “Your right, Sansa. That is magic.”

They ate quietly after that, so many apples that Sansa stopped counting.

“You were right, what you said earlier, I have been mean. I’m no good as a sworn shield either.  I’ve been thinking on what we have to do, we need more food, and shelter too. What happens if one of us gets sick?”

Sansa listened to Jon talking but his words did not scare her. For the first time, Sansa felt frightened for Jon. She moved in closer to him and placed a hand on his arm. “Jon, you’re a true knight to me.”   

That drew his attention. “I’m not a knight, Sansa.”

“You are to me. I would rather have you as my sworn shield than even Aemon the Dragonknight. All the rest of it, we will figure out together.”

“Aye, I suppose we will.”

They sat in silence, curled up next to each other, watching the flames spark and dance about.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've never done it but I've seen my father start a fire using the method Jon did.
> 
> Also, you can assume Jon will either be naked or nearly so for the remainder of this story.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was hard to write, I did not anticipate enjoying GOT Sansa so much, I kinda want to keep them stuck in time somehow.

“Stop moving, it won’t be much longer.”

“I look ridiculous.”

Secretly, Sansa agreed with him but it was all Jon’s fault really. She had grown weary of arguing with him over dressing habits and common decency. If he insisted on behaving as he did, then Sansa would simply dress him accordingly.

“You look proper.”

“You put me in skirts,” said Jon, clearly irritated.

Sansa ignored his remark, they had already argued over this more than once. She sat back, admiring her efforts, silently acknowledging that Jon was partly right, she was putting him in a rather short skirt.

As it turned out, most of the ship captain's personal items had washed ashore, including a trunk of his clothes. The captain had been a great, fat man so none of it would fit Jon, even if he had considered wearing them. She had taken two of his heavy, linen tunics and cut them to a simple skirt design for Jon to wear. Lacking thread, Sansa had made use of the cloak Jon had also brought ashore. It had been made of leather, thick and ugly. It was a painstaking effort, but she had managed to cut away several strips of cord from that cloak.

She finished threading the leather cording through the last hole, using the wooden needle Jon had made for her. “Done. The skirt is loose towards the bottom to give you plenty of movement and you better cinch the ties all the way, Jon.”

“I know how to do it, Sansa. I can dress myself.” Jon pulled away from her, looking down at the new garment she had made for him. “What’s it called?”

“It’s called barely decent and you better wear it, I won’t have you swimming naked any more.”

Jon had gone back to wearing clothes for a full sennight after their first day on the island. Then, as the days passed, he began to pull off one garment after another and taken to swimming naked again. He claimed it was only so his clothes would remain dry, but Sansa knew he was just being obstinate. They had been stranded for well over a turn of the moon now and it was clear that Sansa would need to be the one keeping him proper.

She stood back up, looking at Jon. He was bare chested, she had given up on that. There was no needle and thread for her to make him any sort of breeches or small clothes so she had done the next best.  It was a simple garment that covered his bottom and manhood, ending mid thigh. It was completely scandalous yet there was little else she could do.

“I’ll wear it, I promise. Just you be sure and never tell...anyone.” Sansa did not miss it, Jon had almost said Robb and Arya. They rarely spoke of home, by unspoken agreement.

“You wear it and I never will.” Sansa placed her hands on her hips, she meant it. She’d put him in dresses before letting him go naked again.

Jon merely chuckled at her before turning serious. “Sansa, will you be all right today, by yourself?”

“Of course, why would I not be?” Sansa would be going by herself to collect their food alone, for the first time since they had arrived. She was frightened, but had no intention of telling Jon that.

“No reason at all, if there are monsters in those woods, I’m worried for them.” Jon stroked her hair for a moment and then kissed her cheek before turning to the ocean. He had some plan to put rocks in the water so they could catch fish.

Sansa turned her attention to gathering needed supplies, the cup they had gathered, Jon’s tunic, and a large piece of bark that served as a simple basket before setting off into the tree line. After taking less than a handful of steps, she turned back, picking up one of Jon’s daggers to take with. Sansa was not stupid, she was brave, like a lady in the songs.

 

***

 

Jon quietly watched Sansa leave their little camp before beginning his tasks. The idea for catching fish had come from an innocent remark Sansa had made while listening to him lament their lack of nets. He had fashioned a simple spear and spent days attempting to catch something with it, to no avail. Sansa had sat on the beach, laughing at him for much of the time, then told him that if sticks couldn’t catch fish, he should try a rock. He had felt humiliated, listening to her, but she was likely right.

His cousin had surprised him, Sansa was more resourceful than he would have thought. They had made a temporary home on the same stretch of beach they had first come ashore. Their little boat served as storage space, keeping all their salvaged items and the different tools they had managed to fashion. Next to that, their living quarters, almost completely designed by Sansa. Jon had never been much for needlework but it was her knowledge that had led to them using grasses and branches to build a simple fort against a pair of close set trees. Next to their little house lay the fire pit, which they kept supplied with kindling and wood at all times.

Now, Jon set himself to their latest project. He had spent many days scouring the island and bringing back large rocks, collecting them all in a pile. As the number grew, he watched the tides every morning and night, making note of the water coming in and the fish along with it. Sansa had spoken true, he could use rocks to make a different sort of net.

The task was easy enough, if somewhat laborious, he would be sore the next day. One by one, Jon took each rock, building a small tide pool in three different places he had selected.  They were large enough to allow for fish to swim through while the tides were in over night but as the morning came, and the water receded, the fish would be trapped, ready to be scooped up by him. Or, at least Jon hoped so, he would know for certain soon enough.

His work complete, Jon stood in the ocean water, feeling the waves lapping against his calves before receding back into the ocean. He was tempted to go off in search of Sansa, this was the first time they had parted for any length of time from each other. Jon knew the island was uninhabited, save for the two of them yet worries were always at the edge of his thoughts, illness, a serious injury, running out of food, there was so much that could go wrong. He had tried to speak of it with Sansa more than once but she would dismiss him, refusing to even consider the idea of a serious calamity befalling them.

“I brought us food, another little squash and some berries.” Sansa was standing next to him, Jon had not even heard her approach.

He cringed at the berries, remembering when they had first stumbled upon the blueberry bushes, made all the worse as it came the very day after he caught their first rabbit. Sansa had gotten upset, yelling that it showed there was no need to kill rabbits. He had retaliated by skinning the damn thing right in front of her. “Good, I hope for us to have a bit of fish tomorrow too. Come on, let’s eat.”

Jon took her hand in his and they walked together back towards their new home.

“Do you like it, what I made for you?

“Aye, I like it very much.” In his head, Jon could hear Robb laughing, asking if Sansa would be putting silk ribbons in his hair next. If it would make Sansa smile, Jon would let her.

 

***

 

Sansa woke to a stabbing pain in her tummy and began to worry she was growing sick. Sitting up, she realized she was alone in their little home, Jon had probably left to check their catch as he did most mornings. Getting on her hands and knees, Sansa crawled out, not wishing to sick up inside. Even if they lived in a hovel fit for the lowest of small folk, she had no desire to empty her stomach in it. Their home was just that, a tiny bit of refuge against rain and elements, barely enough room to sleep.

In the morning light, Sansa saw the blood on her dress and had to  suppress a cry of panic.

Pulling up her skirts, she sat on the dirt by their fire pit, and looked between her thighs. There was no mistaking the red and drying brown, Sansa had her first moon blood.

She quickly stood, circling their camp to make sure Jon was not returning. It was bad enough he knew of her other bodily functions, moon blood would be so much worse. Sansa remembered trying to explain her need to him once and how Jon had reacted, laughing and asking if she needed to shit. Sansa had felt so much shame over it she had run away and hid from him.

Resisting the urge to cry, Sansa quickly took her dress off, replacing it with Jon’s doublet which she had taken to wearing at times. Folding up her dress, Sansa placed it in the boat where Jon would not find it, before heading off towards the pool of water they used for water and bathing. If she could clean the evidence away then Sansa could pretend none of this had ever happened.

 

***

 

Jon returned to their home, carrying a fish in his hands, feeling pleased with himself. They had been living on their island for two moons and there were times he felt certain it was all a dream, that he would wake up in Winterfell to find Arya wishing to go riding with him. It always passed, as the routine of his new life with Sansa took over. However, this day was different, Sansa was not waiting for him as she always was.

Jon checked inside their home and walked towards the boat, calling out her name but heard only silence. It was chance that made him look down into a corner of their boat to see Sansa’s dress folded up and tucked away. Jon picked it up and felt a cold terror run through his body.

He looked around once again, screaming her name in earnest but received no response. Fear began to take hold, Sansa was all Jon had, he did not know what he would do if something happened to her. Screaming her name, Jon started to run through the woods, looking for her. Sansa loved the brook and water pools, he could only hope his instinct proved correct.

Running towards the sound of water, Jon began praying to the old gods, begging them to let him find Sansa safe and unharmed.

“Sansa.” She stood in the water, completely naked, the water only covering her up to mid thigh.

She saw him approaching, screaming out, “Turn around and go away.”

Jon did his best to avoid looking at her, turning his back as he asked, “Did you hurt yourself? I saw your dress.”

“Go away.” He could hear panic in her voice, that worried him.

“No, not until you tell me what happened.” Jon gave her a moment to respond, but hearing only silence he continued, pleading, “Please, Sansa. Will you tell me if you are hurt? I saw blood.”

Sansa did not respond but he could hear her moving in the water.

“Will you at least do me the favor of telling me if you are dying?”

“I am not dying.” Jon felt grateful, at least Sansa would share some bit of news with him.

“Can I turn around now?”

More shuffling around before she answered him. “Yes.”

Jon quickly moved, taking her in. He saw no sign of injury or blood, she had on that grey doublet of his she sometimes wore. Her hair was loose, spread across her back and shoulders, the ends damp. The sun came through the trees adding even more shine to the copper, making her skin glow. Jon thought she had never looked more beautiful.

He stepped towards her. “Will you tell me what happened?”

“You’ll laugh.”

“I won’t. No laugh or teasing, I’ll swear an oath if you wish it. I saw the blood, Sansa, and I felt terrified something happened to you.”

Sansa closed her eyes, taking a deep breath as if to summon her courage. “I had my moon blood.”

He stepped up to her, smiling in relief. “Is that all?”

She looked at him as if he’d suddenly turned into a wight. “All? It’s messy and I’ll get blood everywhere.” She said the last part in such a low whisper, Jon barely heard her.

He shrugged his shoulders. “It cleans up. If you want, I’ll cut myself and we can both be bleeding.”

“You said you wouldn’t tease.”

“I’m not, I’m completely serious.” He took her face in both his hands, gently tugging so she looked up at him. “Sansa, I was terrified, I thought something happened. I thought…” Jon did not know how to finish, so he kissed her forehead instead. “Next time, don’t run away. Tell me so I can help.” Jon didn’t say the rest, the fear he had felt thinking she would leave him. Sansa thought he dismissed her but she was the one that kept them going.

“You shouldn’t worry, I’ve told you before, we have each other. I’m your Lady, remember?” Sansa smiled at him as if delivering a simple statement of fact, a truth he should have already known.

Jon did not know how Sansa did it, she held on to her idealism even in their current circumstances. All he did was think on their problems. “Aye, I’m your Knight, I haven’t forgotten. Shall we go home? We can eat and get you taken care of.”  

Sansa kept quiet, merely nodding her head in agreement before pulling his hands off her face and taking one in her own to lead them away.

Jon Snow was no knight, just a bastard trying to honor his vows.

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In case it wasn't clear, she put him in something close to a loin cloth.


	6. Chapter 6

The days passed, one blending into another, some felt never ending while others passed in a haze, leaving his body sore and tired. As the days went, so did the turning of the moon, four, five, six, seven, and more. So many that Jon was tempted to no longer track them, to forget the passing of time but it would have meant little. The evidence was visible enough whenever he would cast his eye on Sansa, her hair had grown, down her back and even lower, her body was changing too. Jon supposed the same could be said of him, if Sansa’s teasing over his growing whiskers meant anything.  

“Well, what do you think?” She was grinning at him mischievously, already knowing his answer.

“I think it’s the worst thing I have ever eaten, it’s bloody awful.” Jon wanted to temper his words, find some way to compliment her efforts but it was the truth. If he never ate another bite of seaweed in his life, Jon Snow would die the happiest of men.

She gave him a small laugh, making her eyes light up in a way that made him think of sapphires. “I suppose it is rather awful, maybe we try drying rather than boiling it next time.” Sansa was clad in her chemise as it was their washing day but she still looked lovely as always. The sun had worked some sort of magic on her, lending her skin a soft glow that reminded him of honey and given her a few freckles on her nose and cheeks. The red in her hair shone brighter and he could see a few strands of gold peeking through.

“What made you think of it?”

She rolled her eyes at him. “Our stay with the Manderlys, don’t you remember? One of their songs, the merman ate it.”

Jon didn’t remember that at all. “I didn’t pay much attention to the songs.” He’d been in the training yard as much as he could.

“No, you never do,” she said, teasingly. “We should start our day soon.”

It was early yet, their first meal of the day. The two of them had built up a routine for their themselves, an order of events and sets of rules that guided their lives. Jon would rise first and check the ocean pools for any new fish before they broke their fast. After eating, it was time for the daily tasks of gathering water, food, and wood for the fire. The latter part of the day went to different efforts, whether that was their regular washing, gathering ocean water to make salt, or another special task that needed doing. Once Jon had made a jape, suggesting they forego washing since no one could see them. Sansa had not been amused, she had given him a tongue lashing on the importance of cleanliness, that even in their reduced circumstances, she would never allow them to become slatterns.

A fortnight ago, Jon had come up with the idea of building a new home, something resembling a building with an actual room or two. So far, their progress was limited to a partial wall and plenty of arguing on how best to proceed. He supposed it was for the best it was a washing day, Jon would not hear any explanations on how to build a wall or what the best materials were. In truth, Sansa knew as little as he did, even if she refused to admit it.

Back in Winterfell, Jon swore to both Robb and Lord Eddard, he would protect Sansa and keep her safe. Secretly, Jon had made another oath to Robb alone, that he would steal Sansa away and take her back to Winterfell if Joffrey did not treat her well or if King’s Landing proved unsafe. Jon had meant it too, he was no knight but he had made that promise to Robb in front of the Winterfell heart tree, with the old gods to serve as witness.

On the journey south, he had sometimes imagined being Sansa’s champion, taking the kingsguard vows and becoming a great knight and tourney winner. Other times, he had secretly dreamed of war and battle, a chance to prove himself worthy of Lord Eddard’s trust, to show he could be as true and honorable as Robb, even if he was a bastard. Now, Jon was Sansa’s sworn shield, but rather than a tourney melee, he proved his valour by catching squirrels, picking apples, and pretending Sansa didn’t piss. He had made that mistake only the one time, she had run away and hid from him for an entire day, not appearing again until it had grown dark. He should have been able to compete in a joust, to be granted her favor before placing a crown of roses on her head. There were days Jon Snow did not think any of this was fair at all.

“Shall we start in the berrylands today?”

Jon grinned at her before lightly tapping her foot with his. “Or perhaps the applewood?”

This was something else Sansa had done, giving names to the different places on the island. The berrylands were a portion of the forest swarming with berry bushes. The little brook and pool which provided their water was now called the whispering waters. The other side of the island, furthest from their home was known as the sorrows. She had decided it was a lonely place, unexplored and forgotten by the world. Further south from the applewood lay the hidden hills, named because they had discovered some squash and potato plants one day by chance. The island itself was still nameless, Sansa had not yet decided what it should be known as.

“Why do you call it Shadow Mountain?” This was the only one that confused him, it was just a hill, and easy enough to climb.

Sansa looked at him, as if explaining a simple fact to a child. Jon did not particularly mind, he knew it was meant in jest. “Silly Jon, because of the shadow monster that lives in the mountain. It lures innocent maidens, hoping they will plunge to their deaths.”

Jon grinned, enjoying himself. “But how do we know? If all the innocent maidens plunge to their death, then no one would know of the shadow monster.”

It was Sansa’s turn, tapping his foot with hers. “We know because their true loves watched from below, helpless to stop it. After, they would wander the island, forever consumed by grief. It’s a legend, Jon.”

Secretly, he felt it was a rather sad story. Instead of grief-stricken lovers, Jon preferred the idea of them living until their skin grew wrinkled and their hair turned white, surrounded by children and grandchildren. Perhaps it was less dramatic than her story, but he thought it made for a happier one.

They were sitting next to each other, close enough so their hips and thighs touched as had become their usual habit. Jon turned slightly, to better face her, before moving the hair away from her cheek to kiss her. “Shall we be going then?”

No, none of this was fair at all. Jon’s dreams had been shattered, one after another, while they had been stuck on this island. Even if they were someday found, he didn’t think Lord Eddard would ever trust him with Sansa again. Likely, his uncle would send him to the wall, to take vows as a black brother for failing to keep her safe. Jon managed to keep food in her belly but Sansa was meant to be a queen, she deserved better than the occasional potato and squirrel.

 

***

 

Sansa enjoyed their evenings most of all. The sky would grow dark, the only source of light to be found in the orange and red flames of their fire pit. In the distance, she could hear the waves of the ocean, gently lapping against the sand before the water returned to the sea. It was a gentle and steady rhythm that played in the background, a musical lullaby the island gave them to end their days with.

Tonight they were eating another rabbit, more blueberries, and an orange squash they had roasted by the fire and mashed. Jon was quiet as he so often was, Sansa supposed she should feel grateful he wasn’t in one of his sullen moods.

“I have an idea for our house,” he said, quietly.

They were sitting close to one another, legs and hips almost touching,  as was now their habit. Sansa supposed it wasn’t proper of her to allow it, but they were all the other had, she liked being close to him. Their backs were resting against an old log Jon had spent more than a day dragging to their home so they could make us of it.

“We can’t use mud, Jon. I already explained that to you.”  Sansa liked the idea of a larger home, it was better than the stupid hovel they were currently making use of. The only problem was neither of them had much experience with masonry and little in the way of supplies. She had built their hovel using different stitches to weave and bind branches together but that solution would not do for a larger home. Jon kept coming up with ideas that Sansa found rather silly but all they had to show for their efforts was a single completed wall that fell over in a heavy wind.

“It was a better idea than your rocks.” Jon did not like it whenever she would mention his failures, he would often glower at her and grow snappish.

Sansa decided to be generous and ignore him, she could not be blamed if all their ideas came from her. “What are you thinking for our house?”

“We need wood and nails and I know where we can get it.” He paused, taking her hand in his. “The boat has long planks we could use and maybe the nails too.”

She did not like this suggestion at all. “If we do that, we won’t have a boat anymore.” They had never even discussed using it, but the boat had always represented hope to her, a chance that someday Sansa could still return to Winterfell. “We could never leave here, go home again.”

“Why do you never speak of it? You never talk of your mother or Robb or Bran, don’t you miss them? Winterfell is your home and you never so much as mention it.”

“I choose to spare myself the pain and not think on any of it. If I let myself dwell, even a little…” Sansa had no wish to explain further. “Winterfell is your home too, Jon. You belong there as much as I do.”

Jon’s face grew sorrowful, a small frown appeared and he cast his eyes downward to avoid looking at her. “Not like you, Sansa. I’m a Snow, remember? I was only there because your father took me in, he could have had me fostered elsewhere if he wanted.”

Sansa took one of his hands still holding her own, turning it so the palm faced towards her and began to lightly stroke. Jon had never told her this before.

He continued on. “I once thought maybe I could rule Winterfell but Robb told me I never could, he would be the next Lord. For a while, I thought maybe I could help him or your father would even give me a holdfast somewhere.”  He turned towards her. “Those were merely a child’s fancy.”

Sansa moved her hand up, taking his arm to lean close. Jon could infuriate her at times, he was ridiculously stubborn but she did not like to see him in pain. “You’re wrong. This is our land, our home, and we rule here. It isn’t like we imagined perhaps, but it is ours.” She smiled, one that she hoped provided some comfort before kissing his cheek.

She stood, taking their only cup and filling it with water from one of the shallow bowls they kept in their boat and returned, once again sitting next to Jon. Sansa began to pick the petals off the the yellow wildflowers she had been gathering that day. She did not know their name, having never seen them before but they had a pleasant, slightly sweet smell.

“What are you doing?”

“I remembered using rose water so thought I would try this. There are no roses here but these smell nice enough. If it works, I can place the scented water in my hair and on my skin. That soap of ours smells awful.” She wrinkled her nose in disgust.

“You don’t smell awful, you always smell pretty to me.” Jon’s eyes grew large, he had surprised himself.

The soap they had created was the result of many failed efforts, slowly collecting animal fat and mixing it with lye created from wood ash. They kept the extra fat and soap in their home with them to prevent animals reaching it.

They were quiet, Jon content to watch as Sansa collected the flower petals, placing them in their cup before setting it by the fire to let the water heat.

“What song would you like tonight?”

“It doesn’t matter, I like all your songs.”

 

***

 

Jon woke first, as he usually did, to find Sansa curled up next to him. In the early days, she had insisted on a proper distance between them, even demanding he lay his sword between them. Now though, more than a year later, they would cling to the other at night and Jon would wake to find their limbs twisted together, Sansa’s hair spread across his chest. At first, Jon had loved the growing intimacy between them, she even kissed his cheek sometimes. Now though, now, it was becoming the sweetest tortures. Jon had told her he needed to wake early to catch the fish before the tides came in but that was only the partial truth.

He moved her arm off his chest and slid away, quietly leaving their little home to head towards the beach and begin his usual routine, stopping at the water line to take a quick piss before moving further away, where Sansa could not easily see or hear him.

Guilt took him, as it did every morning. Jon had often told himself that he could be as good and true and honorable as Robb, to show Lord Eddard he was worth of the man’s respect. He would have taken vows of chastity and done so gladly. But, Jon had only shown himself to like other bastards, filled with base and lustful thoughts.

He could not quite say when his feelings began to change, they had crept up on him, so silent he had failed to notice until it was too late. It grew worse after she began using that flower water of hers and letting him brush her hair at night.

He sat, crossing his legs before lifting the front of the garment Sansa had made to take himself in hand. Jon spread some of the fluid already leaking along his cock before firmly gripping it, stroking from the head down to his shaft. His movements gradually increased in speed and Jon lost himself in the pleasure of it.

“What are you doing?”

Panic took him, Jon quickly drew his hand before turning his head to see Sansa. She was several paces away, far enough to have not seen anything. A few steps more and Jon would have been completely exposed to her.

“Go away.”

“No. I want to know what you were doing.” He could hear the stubbornness in her voice.

Jon felt sick, waves of shame took him. He kept his body turned away from her, unwillingly to let her see any more of him. He desperately needed Sansa to leave.

“Leave me alone, I don’t want you here. I’m tired of you following me around all the time,” he said, harshly. As soon as Jon finished speaking, he immediately regretted it. He had not raised his voice to her in many moons and they were arguing less and less.

“My sincere apologies, I will leave you in peace.” Her words were short, her voice overly stiff and formal.

Sansa left him, alone and numb as he sat in the still damp sand. Jon knew with just a few words, he had likely ruined the relationship they had built, the trust and closeness that lay between them now. He made no move to get up and return to their home, trying to think on what to say. A mere apology would not suffice.

Eventually, he returned home only to find his clothes and knives scattered amongst the dirt and grass. It was as if she had taken every item of his from their home, throwing it with little care for where it landed. He picked up his grey doublet from amongst his possessions, that may have hurt most of all. Sansa had taken to wearing it more and more often of late, Jon had enjoyed seeing it on her but she had cast it away as if it meant nothing to her.

The source of his misery sat by their fire pit, calmly eating an apple as if nothing was amiss.

“Sansa, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean what-”

“I took your sword and hid it away. If you no longer wish for my presence, then find another place to live.” She rose, her apple seemingly forgotten in her hand.

Jon’s sword was his most treasured possession. Robb had given it to him the morning they had left for King’s Landing, had told him to use it to protect Sansa and keep her safe. “Please, don’t do this. I didn’t mean any of it, you know I don’t feel that way about you.” Jon sounded pathetic even to his own ears.

She took a few steps towards him. “Why should I care about your feelings when you care so little for mine?”

Sansa turned and walked away from him, into the forest. She reminded him of a queen, walking into her throne room, he would swear every tree and bush and blade of grass bowed as she passed them by.

Jon felt a growing wetness in his eyes.

  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The next update should come quite a bit faster than the last two.


	7. Chapter 7

Jon Snow was not a knight, had never stood vigil in the Winterfell sept or been anointed with the seven oils. Yet, when their ship began to sink and the smell of smoke came on them, he had saved her, as a true knight would. After, he had sworn to her, had spoken the words, to keep her safe and guard her home and hearth. But Jon Snow had lied, he no longer wished for her presence, no longer wanted her company. Sansa blinked rapidly to fight back her tears, she would not weep for a man who cared so little for her.

Sansa wore the ship captain’s linen tunic she had altered, carefully removing the sleeves, saving the fabric for a future purpose. Rather than cut the garment down further, she had used strips of the dark blue used for Jon’s skirts and made a belt, pulling it tight under her breasts. She told herself the result was a garment that almost resembled a dress, the excess fabric similar to the pleats and gathers of her old gowns. It was a simple piece of clothing, not suitable for a lady of her station, yet to Sansa, she walked into the forest dressed finer than any queen.

Sadly, as she now stood in that forest, surrounded by pines, needles and tufts of grass beneath her, Sansa did not know what to do. Most days, Jon would be with her as they went through the routine of their life, gathering food and water, making salt and soap. But, Sansa had left with no means to collect any food and her appetite had left.

Unsure of what to do, she walked towards the whispering waters, to lose herself in its music. Only, the brook gave her little joy that day so Sansa returned home, to a cold hearth and an empty bench and an absent Jon. He was gone and all his possessions with him. Even so, Sansa checked their stupid hovel, finding Jon’s doublet folded on the ground. Jon had taken her trust and love, it seemed a rather poor exchange. She did not know why, but Sansa picked it up and hid it away beneath her chemise.

She felt uncertain, she had no meat to prepare and did not know how to check the traps, Jon had always done that. Instead, Sansa went towards their boat, pulling forth the blue silk dress she had tucked away into the captain’s chest. She had attempted to clean the gown once but the red brown stain did not fade and Sansa had not worn it since.

Taking the dress and scissors, Sansa went to rest against the log and carefully cut the skirt and sleeves away from the bodice, using the scissor tips to gently rip the seams as best as she was able. Once done, Sansa cut the sleeves into narrow strips which she braided together. The skirts were next, cut into large squares, the scraps set aside.  After using the scissors once again to make evenly spaced holes, she sewed the pieces back together, using the braids and a simple whipstitch.

It was a laborious effort, not difficult, but painstakingly slow. As Sansa worked, she sang quietly to herself, _The Winter Maid_ once but it only made her think of Winterfell and home. Mostly, she sang her favorites, Jenny of Oldstones and Jonquil, even sad Alysanne a few times. Once done, the sun was well into the sky, it was easily past mid day. Sansa thought of her chambers back in Winterfell, she slept on the ground now but she could at least create a bed of silks to rest upon. It was a strong fiber and not known to easily frey, Sansa was hopeful it would last her a good while.

“You have a beautiful voice, I always thought so.”

Sansa looked up, he stood before her, frowning, the lines of his brow wrinkled, unsure of his reception. It was his clothing that surprised her, Jon was fully dressed in his breeches and tunic. She had long despaired of him wearing either again.

He went to sit some distance away rather than by her side as he usually did. “I almost left, as you wished me too. Only, I promised, before we ever left Winterfell, that I would take care of you and I mean to do so. You can hate me, you can never speak to me again, but I won’t ever leave you.”

Sansa understood, Jon had returned because she was Robb’s sister and Lord Eddard’s daughter and he loved them, not her. “You promised Robb.”

He pulled his knees up, feet flat on the ground, before putting his hands around them. “In Winterfell, I thought it meant winning tournies and adventure, I was wrong. You showed me that. The day I laid my sword at your feet, I mostly did it as a distraction, a way to bring you a bit of comfort. I was wrong that day too. The promise I made to you, Sansa, not Robb, that's the one that matters.”

He thought to comfort her or perhaps beg forgiveness, all she heard was that Jon had lied to her again when he spoke his vows, he had not meant them.

“Then why did you speak as you did?” She had woken and thought to surprise him with an offer to help. Then, she had found him sitting on the beach and heard him groan.

Jon rested his head on his knees, avoiding her. Finally, he looked up, running a hand through his hair. “Do you remember the day you first had your moon blood? How you felt?”

She remembered the shame that first day, certain Jon would tease and laugh at her. Jon had cut himself on his thigh, just as he told her he would, had let the blood run until it dried. She knew he was aware when it came upon her even though he would pretend not to. He had done the same with their wastes too. Jon once told her about the chamber pots he set up for his use and then begged forgiveness for speaking so crudely. They never spoke of that either. Sansa nodded her head. “I remember.”

“That’s how I felt when you saw me.” He paused, pointing between his legs. Sansa pursed her lips, realizing he spoke of his manhood. “Sometimes, if I allow myself to think on certain things, my body, it acts as if I am about to be intimate with a woman,” He finished the last words quietly, looking away from her.

Sansa knew his meaning, her mother and septa had explained to her what happened between a man and his lady wife, “What were you thinking on?”

Jon did not answer, choosing to rest his head upon his knees once again.

“Was there a girl in Winterfell?”

She mostly heard the muffled “No.”

“Do you have a lady love somewhere?” If he did, Sansa did not like her at all.

For the first time, Jon met her eyes, gazing at her for so long she did not think he would speak. “Please, Sansa,” he begged.

Sansa pushed no further, she did not wish to cause him pain. She had once thought of Jon as merely her bastard cousin, now he was her truest friend, she told him more than she ever had Jeyne Poole. He did not laugh when she told him their island’s history and often asked her to sing for him.

She looked at him. Sansa had once believed he was not beautiful but she had been wrong. Jon had a strong jaw, dark grey eyes, long lashes, a mouth with pink lips. His hair was thick and soft. Sansa had even seen him unclothed, his muscles had grown larger and more defined since they had lived on their island. She could imagine sliding her hands across his stomach and chest, feeling his skin against her own. Jon Snow was very beautiful, she had only needed to look for it.

“I’m glad you came back. You belong here, with me.” Sansa was no longer angry with him, he had displayed great courage, confessing as he did. She could wait to ask more questions.

Jon may still love Robb and even Arya more than he ever cared for her, he may have lied when he swore his vows, but it made no matter. Sansa would make him love her.

 

***

 

Jon had angrily wiped the tears from his eyes when Sansa walked away from him, not wishing to seem weak should she decide to return She had not, leaving Jon to clean the dirt and pine needles from his possessions and stow them at the base of a nearby tree. He’d not wanted to leave her, Sansa was all Jon had. But, she had dismissed him and Jon had done as she‘d bid.

The fish had gone uncollected after the morning’s events so he had looked in on their traps but their nooses were once again empty. It was the third day without a catch and he was beginning to worry over it. Jon would either need to find a way to build more or move them to another location on the island.

It was the eggs that brought Jon back. He had never collected them in the wild before, only had Jory Cassel’s teaching to go on, but he had begun looking for and checking the nests of wild geese almost as soon as they'd arrived. This day was his first success, he’d managed to pluck four eggs away before the parents had attacked him. He fully intended to serve Sansa a meal of roasted goose before the next turn of the moon, the vicious creatures had earned it.

“I brought you something.” Jon rose, walking towards the eggs hidden away amongst his possessions. Returning, he set them in her lap before sitting on his knees in front of her. “I should warn you, there’s a pair of angry geese that’ll likely attack us tonight, out of revenge for my thieving, the wretched things.” Jon had ended up climbing a tree to get away from their bites.

He watched as her face shifted from confusion to understanding, and finally, delight. Her mouth hung open briefly before changing to a toothy grin.

“I thought we could gather up something to go with and have ourselves a feast, if you’d like.”

Jon had pleased her, so they set off to gather food, and shared a meal of eggs, roasted apples, and boiled greens. Sansa had asked no further questions and he was grateful for it. He’d felt shame when she had wondered over a lady love, any answer would have been the wrong one. Sansa said he belonged with her, Jon considered it enough, at least for awhile. He had more to say but needed to think on the right words a bit longer.

Sansa was no longer angry with him, as best he could tell. They had sat close while eating together and she had sung _Two Hearts That Beat as One_ for him. It made him think of the father he never knew, Prince Rhaegar had stolen Jon’s mother away when she was promised to another and many had died for it, including her. Lord Eddard rarely spoke of the Lady Lyanna but Jon had often imagined that she would sing for him and tell him stories, as Sansa did.

“We should retire, it grows late.”  The sky had grown dark and Jon had not noticed, lost in their talk as he’d been.

So, they cleaned their teeth and pissed. Or at least he did, Sansa still continued the pretense.

“I should have made this for us earlier. Do you like it?”  

They were laying together in the dark, Sansa was curled against him, using his arm as a pillow as she had taken too. He didn’t mind, even if it left him with the feeling of needle pricks. The waves could be heard, waiting to lull them to sleep as they did every night.

“I more than like it, Sansa. Did you know I watched you making it?” Sansa had been so lost in cutting up her dress and sewing it back together, he’d managed to approach her unawares. The silk made for a more comfortable bed than the pine needles and scraps they had been using.

“Then why did you stay quiet for so long?”

Jon was glad she could not see him in the darkness, his cheeks were burning. “It took a bit to gather my courage.”

“Do not ever leave again, I will not allow it.”

Jon stayed quiet, she was the one who had sent him way. It would not serve his cause to remind her.

He could feel her moving away from him to sit up. Her hand found his arm in the dark. “Does the idea of taking the boat apart not bother you?”

This surprised him, he had only suggested it twice before. “I once thought the same as you, as long as we had it, someday…then I remembered what you said.”

“What did I say?”

“This is our land and we are its people, it took me awhile to figure out what you meant.”

“I should have told you more.”

“What else should you have told me?”

“I should have agreed with you. I should have said we are the blood of Winterfell, our strength lies in each other, not some floating pieces of wood.”

“You were still right about the rest. There is opportunity here, if only I had the sense to see it.”

“We can take the boat apart. You will need to figure out how to do it though.”

Jon reached out blindly, pulling at her. “Will you lay back down? We should sleep.”

He felt her move, settling against him as she’d been before with some of her hair spilling across his chest. He could sense Sansa was not quite ready to rest, he dreaded the questions still to come. Sansa would work at him as if he was a puzzle to solve and her curiosity sated.

“Jon, what you told me earlier, did it hurt?” She whispered to him.

When they had first come to bed, Jon wished to have seen her, resting on the blue silk with her hair spread beneath her. Now, he was grateful for the night, he could hide away in it where she could not see him. “No, the opposite.”

“Did you enjoy it?”

Jon did not know how to answer this, the earlier shame washed over him. He could not tell her how he felt, how he imagined kissing her. Lord Eddard’s voice sounded in his head, reminding him of their difference in station and his duty to keep her safe. “My body enjoys it.”

That satisfied her, they spoke no further, falling asleep curled up together.

He opened his eyes the next morning to see a pair of blue ones gazing back at him. “How long have you been awake?”

“Not long at all. I need to give you your sword back.” She gave him a gentle smile, lips turned ever so slightly upward. “Now, leave, so I can change.”

Jon did as instructed, he needed to check their traps and the ocean pools but both could wait a few more minutes. The tides were not in yet.

Sansa emerged from their home wearing her white chemise. He could see see the outline of her body and the pink of her nipples under the thin material. Sometimes he thought to tell her, mostly he tried to avoid looking.

“Wait here.” He watched her move into the trees and return with his sword, still sheathed in its belt. “I’m sorry, I only took it because it came from Robb.”

Jon took his sword back. “Sansa, yesterday, when you said I did not care for your feelings, I wanted to explain.”

“There’s no need, I understand.”

“No, I don’t think you do. Your feelings are all I think on. I worry if something has frightened you and how to fix it. I make sure you laugh every day. I’m always thinking on ways to bring you a bit more joy. Your feelings matter greatly to me, more than any vow I made to Robb. Please don’t ever think otherwise.”

He waited for a response but she was silent, the only sounds came from birds chirping up above and the never ending ocean waves. Instead, she walked away from him, towards the boat to pull something from a chest.

“Many bastards reverse their house colors when making a personal standard. One day, I’ll make you a proper favor, an embroidered piece with a white wolf giving chase on a grey field.” Sansa bent down, cutting a strip of fabric away from her chemise. “For now, this will do.” She wrapped the fabric around his upper arm before knotting it.

“You’re giving me your favor?” Jon had not expected it.

She chewed her lower lip before looking at her feet. “Only if you want it.”

“More than you know.”

This pleased her, she was beaming at him, the corner of her eyes crinkled to go with her grin. “Often, when a lady bestows her favor, she grants a kiss as well.”

“Are you certain?” Sansa’s shoulders slumped as her confidence left. “I want to, believe me,” he said quickly, hoping to reassure her before continuing, “You don’t owe me a kiss, or anything else for that matter."

She lightly poked his chest. “I offered because I wanted to, not from a perceived debt.”

Jon put his sword on the ground before stepping close to her. He had never even kissed a girl before. He stroked Sansa’s hair for a moment before moving his hand to cup her cheek, the other lightly settling on her neck. Jon looked down at her before leaning forward, he could hear her breath catching in anticipation as she closed her eyes. His lips met hers with only a bit of pressure and began to gently move.

He pulled away, enjoying himself as her eyes slowly opened. Jon desperately hoped she would let him do it again soon. “Was that good?” 

She placed her hand to her lips, nodding. “I’m glad we did it.”

He heard Robb’s voice in his head this time but he pushed it away. Robb was not there, it was just him and Sansa.

His own lips were burning.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm kinda a sucker for first kisses.


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy Birthday qinaliel! This chapter is for you :)

The nooses were once again empty today, their only meat would be the fish he’d caught that morning. It was the fourth time he had checked since waking, with nothing waiting for him, just as it had been for the past two days. It was as Jory had once told him, when hunting, take only what you need so there is more for later. Jon Snow had not listened to his old friend and their game had grown scarce. It was more than a matter of full bellies, they needed the drippings and he’d begun skinning and curing some of the furs.

He’d known the truth for over a moon’s turn now, since the day she had given him her favor and he had kissed her. They needed to explore the rest of the island. Jon had a duty to Sansa and he had been neglecting it. He thought then of his dead father, Rhaegar had taken what had been promised to another, in so doing had failed in his duty to the realm and thousands had died for it.

Jon returned back to their home, expecting to see her sitting by the fire working on the weaving she had taken to doing but she was not there. The brief rise of panic quickly disappeared when he spied her along the shore line. Jon stroked the white fabric around his right arm that he had yet to remove, before silently approaching her.  

Sansa  was laying in the wet sand, just enough so the wave edge could approach and lick at her before quietly disappearing to sea once again. He stood just behind her, taking advantage of the ocean sounds and her closed eyes to observe at his leisure. Her gown stuck to her skin, he could see the pale outline of her body underneath, her hard nipples stood out against the thin fabric. Jon swallowed, shifting his attention to the ropes of her red hair moved about by the water’s motion.

He considered leaving Sansa, thinking to take a moment for himself, before changing his mind and squatting in the sand next to her. He lightly stroked along her hairline. “Have you fallen asleep on me?”

She slowly opened her eyes before giving him a lazy grin and sitting up. “Florian came upon Jonquil in a pool of water.”

“Am I your Florian then?”

She placed her hand on his knee. “No, this is the ocean and you’re my Jon. I gave up on weaving so came to lay here in the water.”

Jon stopped himself from touching the white fabric, wrapping her hair around his hand instead. “You should rinse. There is sand all over you and your hair will grow stiff from the salt.”

“Come with me then, there should be time to visit our whispering waters before it grows dark.” She stood before grabbing at his hand to lead him away. “Remember, you can’t look.”

“I won’t look.” That was a lie, Jon had already looked many times.

Later that evening, they sat together before the fire as was their habit. Jon had yet to tell her of the traps, evidently preferring to let the worry over it gnaw at his insides.

“Are you ready to tell me what worries you or did you need a bit more time for brooding?”

“I do not brood.”

“Your dramatic sighs prove otherwise.”

“We both know that isn’t true, I have not once uttered a dramatic sigh in all my days.”

Sansa laughed before suddenly turning to lay her head in his lap. Jon began to comb through her hair with his fingers, settling it about so the strands formed a glowing red halo around her. Their relationship had changed since the day he’d kissed her the one time, she touched him more and had taken to teasing him as she had just done.

“We need to go on a ranging tomorrow.” It was a need, but Jon looked forward to the idea, they could make an adventure of it. He did not expect to find pirate ships or dragons but that did not mean they would not stumble upon a new food or something else that could be of use.

Sansa’s brow wrinkled in confusion. “What’s a ranging?”

He ceased playing with her hair, his hand lightly setting on neck, close to her ear. “Exploring. I want to visit the other side of the island, see what there is. I’m not catching as much in the traps as I used too, Sansa. We need to look elsewhere or there won’t be anything left.”

“I will miss you greatly. I wish you luck,” she said, flatly.

“Oh, no, you’ll be going too.” Jon had not expected her to refuse him.

She pulled away from him, sitting up. “Help you kill innocent creatures? Walk around looking for boar tracks? I think not, Jon Snow. Besides, I will be very busy.”

“There are no boars on this island unless they somehow managed to swim here in the past day or so and you enjoy eating those innocent creatures well enough.”

“The lack of boars will bring you home to me all that much sooner.”

Jon sighed, he expected to be gone for much of the day and did not want to be parted from her for so long, but he had no great wish to tell her that. “I promised to keep you safe, remember? How can I do that if you aren’t with me?”

Sansa lightly bit her bottom lip, staring at him. Jon sensed his answer had disappointed her in some way but she nodded her head in acceptance.

“We could pretend I’m a prince who has stolen away with his northern princess, taking her on grand adventures.” Jon wished he had spoke of another story, thinking on his father for the second time that day. This pretend was too close to truth.

Sansa took his left hand in one of her own, turning it so she could stroke his palm. “Perhaps the prince is helping her to flee an unwanted fate.”

Jon did not know how to respond to that. “I want you to come with me.”

This pleased her, she laid her head back in his lap. “I won’t go boar hunting.”

“Stag hunting then. After, I’ll teach you to skin the innocent creatures.”

*****

Sansa relaxed against the log, braiding some of the stray pieces of grass that grew nearby, watching Jon as he shuffled from one task to another. She had noticed it before, his need to always do one more thing, as if the moment he stops, it would bring utter ruin upon them.  She did not know why, the island had provided everything they needed so far, it would continue to do so.

“We can go as soon as I put the fire out.”  He began pouring seawater over the embers before mixing them and the ash with dirt.

“But we will be back today.”

“It’s not safe and I can build another.” He smiled at her, taunting. “Unless you want the honor…”

She ignored that, her arms still ached from her one attempt.

Jon did a final check, his third if she counted correctly, that his tinder was secured under a piece of cloth before turning his attention back to her. “Shall we go then?”

Sansa had not wanted to go, looking for bear dropping in the woods or whatever else Jon had planned, sounded awfully dull. She had wanted to spend her day on her new project, he called it weaving but that was not correct. Sansa hoped to learn how to shape fabric, she had seen it done before and knew it was possible.

She stood, taking his offered hand. Jon’s saddle bag hung off one shoulder, carrying his knives, some apples, and a skin of water.  They walked in silence along the beach, enjoying each other’s companionship.

“Why did you not want to tell me the name of your lady love?” She had been wondering over the question since the night before. Jon had told her he wished for her company so he could keep her safe, she’d not liked that at all.

He stopped walking but did not release her hand, causing Sansa to stumble slightly. “Why do you ask me that now?”

“You never answered me before. Is she in Winterfell or maybe Bear Island? I once saw Robb kiss a kitchen maid and I know Theon had many girls he cared for.”

He faced her, looking past her shoulder but his grip on her hand grew tighter. “I’m no Theon and in answer to your question, there is no girl I care for in Winterfell or Last Hearth or Bear Island, or any other place I have been too. The only girl I’ve kissed is you, Sansa.”

This pleased her, greatly.

“What of you?”

Sansa thought on it. She had once desperately wanted to be a queen, to have the love of her king and people. Now, picturing the man she wanted to marry, he would brush her hair at night and listen to her sing. She would give him sons and daughters and name them after her brothers and sisters. Sometimes, in her dreams, one of her children was named Jon.

She had long realized that she would never be a queen. It was close to a year and a half, Joffrey would already be looking for another bride. Sansa would no longer be considered suitable, even if they somehow managed to be found.

“I want to be loved.”

“You are.” Jon stopped, leaving her to walk towards a tree. Stooping down, he plucked a yellow flower and returned it to her. He tucked it behind her ear before asking, “What name did you give these again?”

It was the yellow flower she had discovered their very first day. “I call them golden moons.” They were a bright gold, the four petals shaped like half moons. The flowers grew wild all over the island, she’d made herself many golden crowns with them.

“They look pretty on you. Come on.” He took her hand once again but they walked less than ten paces before hearing it. “Wretched creatures,” Jon said, vehemently.

It was the geese, Sansa swore he would be going to war with them soon.

“Shall I rest while you go to battle?”

“Those things are a threat to good men everywhere, I’ll need to defend us against them one day, believe me.” Jon was grinning though she suspected he meant it. He’d been filled with pride the day he came home with a dead goose. He sighed in disappointment. “Not today though.”

She pulled him forward. “We’re supposed to be on an adventure, not saving the realms of men.”

“Tell me the island’s history again.”

This had become Jon’s favorite story, perhaps because they had created it together. So, as she had many times before, she told him of the first men who had once lived on the island and their beloved king and queen, how they had lived peacefully without war for countless generations. They had been forced to flee, hiding their lands away in the hope of returning one day.

“And here the island sat, forgotten by the rest of the world, until we came upon it once again,” he finished for her.

“Ready to feed and provide for its new people.”

He led her away from the beach, into the trees. Something had caught his attention.

“Look,” he said, pointing at a tree.

She was puzzled. “It’s not a pine.”

He squatted down, picking something up and handing it to her. “No, it’s a walnut tree. We’ll need to remove the hulls and dry them first though.”

The ground was littered with yellow-green hulls, several feasts worth. “It’s just as I said, the island will take care of us. Please don’t worry over the traps so much.” She stroked his arm, hoping to provide him reassurance.

Jon stilled her movements before taking her hand in one of his own to kiss her fingers.. “Aye, it’s just as you said. We’ll take several of them with us today and come back for more another time.”

He squatted down, picking several up and placing them in his bag.

She grew curious. “Why do you never laugh at me, at my stories?”

He stood, standing close to her. “I suppose you aren’t particularly funny.” His grin belied the harshness of his words though.

Sansa looked at him. His chest was growing ever broader and she liked the muscles on his arms and stomach. Jon said she was loved, too. “You should kiss me.”

He stilled. “You already gave me your favor.”

She drew her courage, placing her hands on his chest as she’d once imagined doing. She could feel the gentle movements as he breathed and the warmth of his skin on her fingertips. “No, because you want too.”

“I’ve wanted too since the first time.” Jon put one hand on her shoulder and the other on her neck, his eyes wide as he leaned towards her.

Sansa’s heart pounded in anticipation, a shiver slowly moved through her body. His lips touched hers before they blended together, the movements growing quicker and more urgent. Sansa felt a flutter in her tummy and her toes curled, she loved this kiss. He suddenly licked at her, causing Sansa to open her mouth in surprise before feeling his tongue with her own. She pulled away, not sure what he had done.

“I’m sorry. I won’t do it again if you want.”

“No, I liked it.” She closed her eyes, leaning in for another kiss.

Instead, Sansa felt his hand suddenly cover her mouth before he roughly pushed her onto the ground. Her body was pinned beneath his so she could not move. Their noses touched and she could see the black flecks in his grey eyes as he gazed down at her, not speaking.  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A scene in this chapter was inspired by the gorgeous set of images created by Black Corazon (Steila here on a03 - go read her stuff!!):  
> [Tumblr post](http://kittykatknits.tumblr.com/post/159575895767/httparchiveofourownorgworks9863948chapters221332)


	9. Chapter 9

His lips had not quite grazed hers when he heard them. The voices of other men sounded odd to Jon after living in a world with only him and Sansa in it. They would not have a second kiss, instead Jon placed his hand over her mouth and shoved her onto the ground, laying directly over her so she could not move. He had frightened her but it could not be helped.

They were well enough into the forest, hidden behind shrubbery and pines, a thick walnut tree directly between them and the beach. Strangers would not be expecting to find two people cast away on a lost island, unless they'd stumbled upon their home and possessions further down the beach. Jon and Sansa has not yet travelled that far, it was a possibility he could not dismiss.

His eyes met Sansa’s, saw her fear. Her expression was the same worn on the animals he’d killed and butchered. He ignored it, concentrating on the strange voices. They spoke the common tongue, perhaps three or four men, otherwise Jon was too far away to learn more.

He shifted his attention back to Sansa, feathering a light kiss next to her ear before whispering, “We are not alone. I'll move my hand away but you can not speak.” She gave him a barely perceptible nod so he did as promised. “I need to go look. Do not move, stay just as you are. Can you do that?” Another slight movement of her head.

Jon kissed her cheek once again, it was all the comfort he could provide, before sliding off of her. He waited long enough to assure himself she would do as instructed before crawling into the bushes, towards the beach. Jory had first taken him hunting while he was still a very young boy, he’d taught Jon, as well as Robb and Theon, how to use a bow, fish, read animal tracks, and how to lay traps. He had also taught them how to approach prey unawares and Jon had never felt more grateful for that skill. The men on the beach likely expected they would be alone, he would make us of that.

He moved deliberately, crawling along the dirt floor of the forest.  Small twigs scratched his skin and leaves tangled into his hair but Jon ignored them. The slight stings were immediately forgotten as Jon lay pressed to the ground and peeked out a bush. A chill went through him, these men would not be their rescuers.

There were four of them, three dressed in the plain garb of a sailor. The fourth was a large man, broad chested, with flecks of grey in his dark hair and dressed in full plate. That was enough to worry Jon, he’d not taken his sword with them that day and had likely grown rusty from lack of practice. He was even more frightened at what lay in the ocean behind them. Jon did not know the name of the long ship but he recognized the golden creature on its black sails. If Sansa was discovered, he could not save her.

Jon crawled back to her, she lay as he’d last seen her, waiting for him. He approached, taking care his body was shielded by the thick trunk of the walnut tree, and leaned into her. “There are four men on the beach, I don’t think they will be friends of ours. I’m going to distract them so you can get away. You know where to go.” It was not a question.

“Jon…” Sansa’s whisper was so faint, she could have been a ghost speaking. He moved his face closer to hers, looking into her eyes. “What about you?” He felt the heat of her breath against his cheek and neck when she spoke.

“I’ll follow when I can. Take our bag with you. I should warn you, I’ll be undressing completely shortly, you may wish to look away.” He enjoyed the rapid blink of her eyes in response. “I….be careful, Sansa.” He gave her a brief kiss on the lips.

Jon pulled away from her before undoing the leather tie of his skirt and sliding it off. He laid the garment flat on the dirt and began placing as many of the raw walnuts as he could reach onto it. He dared not glance back at Sansa before leaving, back down the beach the way they had come, taking care to remain hidden in the trees. Jon would be covered in even more scratches and bruises before the day was done.

He had not gone far before finding his target. “Wretched creatures,” he murmured to himself, his face twisted in disgust. Jon gave a short prayer to the old gods and the new that he’d brought enough of the walnuts before starting to pelt the flock of geese.

It took only a few direct hits before they began honking and flapping their wings, looking for the source of their torment. Jon kept it up, driving them closer to the four men he had seen on the beach, every strike further working them into a frenzy. If the situation were not so dire, Jon would have rather enjoyed himself. Instead, he maintained his focus, pushing them towards his intended target.

Jon knew the exact moment they sighted the four men, their honking managed to grow even louder. They ran towards the men and began to attack, biting and screaming. He suppressed a laugh, keeping out of sight, content to watch as the four Ironmen tried to fight off a swarm of angry geese. Even if they somehow managed to find him, Sansa had escaped.

*****

Sansa had scarcely moved since Jon pushed her into the leaves and grass of the cold ground. She’d desperately wanted to stay with him but had done as he’d told her, waiting alone until her tummy began to hurt from worry.

Then, she heard the geese and knew it was Jon’s work. Sansa picked up his saddle bag and ran further into the forest, she knew where to go. He had discovered the space one day while exploring Shadow Mountain and had taken her to see it. Sansa had not wanted to go but Jon had insisted, had made her climb and locate the hidden space over and over until she could do it on her own.

Sansa ran until she reached the mountain and then stopped to listen. She could not hear footsteps or the sounds of evil men. She pulled forth the skin of water they had taken with and took a sip before returning it to the bag and placing the straps across her body. She hesitated, it had been easy to be brave when Jon had been with her. But, he had stayed behind, nobly sacrificing himself so she could flee to safety. Sansa could be brave, like Jon. She began to climb, not daring to look down lest her courage escape her.

She moved slowly, Sansa did not have Jon’s strength or agility, but eventually she found the little mountain cave tucked away. He’d called it a rock crevice created by some large boulders but Sansa prefered to think of the small space as a mountain cave, they seemed much more romantic.

Sansa crawled inside, on her hands and knees, the space would not allow her to stand upright, settling as far away from the entrance as she could while still able to see out. The mountain cave was not visible from below, Jon had only found it by chance.

Sansa took one of Jon’s knives they had taken with for the day and held it in her hand and began to wait. And wait. And wait. But, Jon did not come. She could tell from the sun it was well past mid-day, they had been separated for hours.

It was cool inside her cave, the only sound a whistle from the wind against the entrance. She sat against a stone wall, in the dirt, her knees tucked up against her, the knife still in her hand.

Just outside the entrance, Sansa spied one of the golden moon flowers that grew on the island. She quickly stuck out her hand and picked it before disappearing back inside. Sansa had lost the one Jon had tucked behind her ear that morning while running away. She thought he might like to see another on her, they were very pretty.

The sky began to darken and Jon had not yet appeared but she knew he would come. In stories, knights always came for their ladies. Her father had done so for her mother, he’d been forced to leave her twice in order to march off to war but he’d returned. Once, as a small child, she remembered secretly watching them in the godswood. Her father had kissed her mother and told her his home was in her arms. Jon would find her.

The sun was almost gone, the sky having changed from a pale lavender to a shade that reminded her of the amethysts her mother sometimes wore. It darkened further and Jon was not there. The wind had settled, the whistles replaced by creatures preparing for their evening adventures. Sansa heard the loud shrieks of owls as they began to hunt, but not Jon’s footsteps or his voice.

The sky grew darker, the color of the blackberries they would eat, so many at once until their lips would stain red from the juices. It was night and she was alone. Sansa relaxed her grip on the knife she had been holding, setting it down beside her. She would have no need of it in the darkness, not even Jon could find her. Sansa closed her eyes and began to pray.

“Sansa? Are you there?”

“Jon, is it you? I don’t know where you are,” she sobbed.

“Aye, it’s me. Keep talking, Sansa, I’ll find you.” She could not see him but his voice told her he was not far.

“I’ll tell you how I escaped.” She gave him the story of her escape, how she climbed the mountain and hid away, just as they had practiced. “I knew you would come Jon, I never doubted for a moment.”

“I would say the same of you.” He was there, so close she could feel the heat of his body.

Sansa reached out blindly in the darkness, her hands searching until they settled upon an arm and shoulder. Jon grabbed and pulled her close until they were embracing, her head resting upon his chest. “You were gone for so long,” she probed.

His fingers were in her hair, gently combing through the strands, his mouth against her forehead. Sansa could feel the warmth of his breath. “I stayed until they left and I was certain their ship would not be returning. It was four men, one was a knight I think. The sails bore a Greyjoy sigil on it.”

She pulled away from, wishing she could see Jon’s face in the dark. “Theon is a Greyjoy, they may have saved us.”

Sansa felt rather than saw him shake his head. “Theon is your father’s ward and a hostage, they would not know you. To them, you are not Sansa Stark of Winterfell, just a pretty girl with only me for protection.”

“You couldn’t know that,” she insisted.

She felt Jon gently pinch her chin so she looked up towards him before his hands cupped her cheeks. If it was not for the darkness, Sansa knew they would be looking into each other’s eyes. “After I set the geese on those men, an argument broke out. I was not close enough to hear their words but the knight, he killed one of the other men. They never had so much as an inkling I was there. They would not have saved you, Sansa.”

She said nothing, trying to understand what Jon was telling her. True knights did not kill innocent men or seek to harm maidens. ‘He was no knight, Jon. What of the poor man he killed?”

“His body is on the beach, where he fell after being struck down.”

“That’s not proper, we need to bury him,” she said, horrified.

“No, we won’t be moving him. If those men come back and the body is gone, they’ll know someone is here. We can’t risk them looking for us.”

Sansa rested upon his chest once again. “We must go and say a prayer over him then. Even if he is a stranger to us, we can give that much. He is Ironborn, perhaps it will help him to the Drowned God’s halls.” She knew little of the Ironborn faith but hoped they could provide his spirit with some comfort.

“Aye, we can do that,” he responded.

Neither of them had eaten so she took the two apples they had stowed away in his saddle bags for them to share followed by a few sips from the skin of water. They would be sleeping with empty bellies that night. Sansa did not mind, they were together.

She heard him yawn. “Are you tired?”

“I’m sore and there are scratches all over my body.”

Sansa felt his arms and shoulder in the darkness to see if she could feel any sores or cuts.

Jon shivered. “I want to kiss you again.”

She nodded her head in acknowledgement before remembering he could not see her. “I want that too.”

He fumbled in the dark, his hands sliding up her arms until one settled on her neck and the other cradled her head, pulling her close. Sansa leaned in, placing her arms around his neck just as she felt his lips on hers once more. His lips were firm against her own, his tongue licked at her and Sansa responded eagerly, letting him explore. They melded together as the urgency of their kiss grew and grew. She lost herself in the bliss of it, only dimly aware of Jon’s movements as he gently pushed at her until she lay on the ground.

He pulled away, his breathing loud and ragged in the dark. “Earlier today, I said you were the only girl I’ve kissed but I didn’t tell the rest.  You’re the only girl I’ve ever wanted to.”

Sansa decided his confession was more romantic than any of the stories she knew. She tickled his stomach. “Then you should kiss me more often.”

Jon gave her a quiet laugh. “Aye, I think I will,” he said, before kissing her once more. This one was more playful and teasing and she loved it just as much.

Soon, they were laying together, burrowed into the other as they always were before going to sleep.

“Jon?”

“Hmmmm…”

“Good night.”

He kissed the top of her head. “Sleep well, Sansa.”

She began to drift off, more certain than ever, her and Jon belonged together.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, I replaced the monkeys with geese. That would make the man in full plate Victarion "dumb as a post" Greyjoy and his long ship Iron Victory. The three sailors are red shirts.


	10. Chapter 10

Sansa woke slowly, her knees tucked up against her chest with her arms around them, to realize she was alone in the mountain cave. She sat up, her muscles aching and sore from the previous day. She was hungry, her hair was a mess of snarls and tangles, and her moon blood had come upon her during the night. They would need to return home, the strips of cloth she used were there, along with what little food they had left.

“There you are.” Jon was by the entrance, but with the sun behind him, he was mostly a dark outline to her. “Are you as eager to leave as I am?”

She crawled towards him, drawing herself up before squinting in the harsh, morning light. Even with the sun out, their hideaway was dimly lit. She pretended to wipe dust and dirt off her grey dress, looking for any sign of blood.

“Even more.” Sansa could see Jon for the first time since leaving him the day before but it only made her want to weep. Scratches and cuts covered his body, long thin tears on his arms and deeper cuts on his chest and legs. Spots of blood littered his body, dried mud covered most of one leg, and he had a large cut above one eye. That one would scar. “What happened to your legs?” she sobbed.

“Ant bites,” he answered, as if they were of little consequence. “I had to lay next to an ant bed for a good while. They don’t hurt, Sansa.” He kissed her lips then, either as a greeting or for reassurance, she did not know which.

Sansa pulled a blade of dried grass that had been trapped in his hair. “We both need baths, even without a mirror I know your hair looks more a fright than mine. I thought we could go home and have a bit of food, you must be hungry. Then, we wash.”

“Aye, food, then baths. I suppose I do look a bit of a mess.” Jon attempted to pull his fingers through his hair before grimacing. “I’ll gather up our stuff, it isn’t much. You can walk a bit, stretch your legs. Be careful, I made a small privy trench over that way,” he finished, pointing towards a patch of dirt and thin grass.

She only nodded her head in acknowledgement, not wanting to show her embarrassment over the subject. Even so, as soon as he disappeared into the mountain cave, Sansa took the opportunity to see to her bodily needs. Jon, mercifully, stayed away until she was done and ready to leave.

“You can take my hand to get down if you want?” he offered, extending one arm towards her.

Sansa began to accept, their fingers lacing together, before reconsidering. “I came up by myself, I can go down the same way.”

Jon grinned at her with an expression Sansa realized was pride. “You could do anything. Shall we go then?”

“Yes...oh, wait,” Sansa bent down to pick one of the golden moon flowers nearby and tucked it behind her ear.  She was determined to feel pretty, even if she looked awful.

They climbed down before returning to the beach, holding hands and sharing the remaining apple between them. They returned to find all their possessions untouched and their stupid hovel awaiting them. Sansa did not think she would mind overly much if a storm or other calamity had come along to destroy the thing.

“The tides are in, we won’t have any fish today.” Jon had moved away from her, closer to the ocean waves. “No meat either. I suppose it doesn’t matter, without a fire to cook with.” He bore that look again, Sansa had come to recognize it quite well.

She approached, standing at his side before clasping his arm. “This won’t be the first day we fill our bellies with fruit, Jon. We will eat better tomorrow.”

He turned towards her, leaning just a bit so their foreheads touched. “You deserve better than apples.”

“I have better than apples. Come on.”

She took his hand, pulling him towards the log they rested on to eat. It did not take long, they had little. They would need to gather more food if they were to have any sort of dinner that night.

After, Sansa went to prepare for their baths, gathering the last bit of soap and a clean skirt for Jon as well as a brush and scissors for his hair. For herself, she took a clean rag for her moon blood and her once white chemise. The garment was no longer the crisp white she had once enjoyed, taking on a dull shade. It would not fit much longer, showing more of her thighs than it once hid.

She placed everything into one of their baskets before realizing her dilemma. Sansa glanced behind her to make sure Jon was paying her no mind before pulling up the grey gown to make note of her small clothes. As she had feared, they were stained, red and brown from her moon blood, and would need to be washed too. Sansa began to rummage through their supply of clothes and fabric, desperately hoping a forgotten pair would suddenly make an appearance before her. The fat captain’s breeches were much too large, even Jon’s would not fit. It would have made little matter, the idea of wearing a man’s breeches made her shudder. She did not even have the means to make any, lacking thread or a fine enough needle. Sansa pulled her gown over her legs as much as possible, blinking rapidly all the while.

“Is something wrong?”

Sansa had not heard him approach. Jon sat on his knees, looking upon her with concern as he placed a hand on her shoulder. “Is it your moon blood? I saw the evidence earlier, you don’t need to hide it.”

She closed her eyes, dimly recalling her childhood belief, if you could not see them then they could not see you. “I only have the one pair of smallclothes and they need washing,” she whispered

“And you need them now?” he asked in understanding.

Sansa could only nod her head.

“Well, use mine then,” he said, as if this was of little matter. Seeing her horrified expression, he continued, “We already share everything, what difference does an item of clothing matter?”

He stood then, pulling her to her feet. “Will it help if I tell you a secret about me?”

Sansa thought on it, this would help her tremendously, she wanted to know. “Yes.”

They held hands, walking towards the whispering waters together. “Remember what I told you my body does sometimes? It happened this morning, before you woke.”

She found this knowledge fascinating, a thousand questions went through her head all at once. “Did you enjoy it? Can you tell me what you were thinking on?”

He flashed her a look before answering, “I always enjoy it. For your other question, I should think you can answer it yourself. Come on.”

They spoke little the remainder of the way, she walked carefully, keeping to the softer tufts of grass and dirt along the way. These days, she would sometimes go without her boots, finding they pinched her at times.

They quickly reached the pool where Jon stripped off his skirt before throwing it and walking into the water. Sansa set down their clothing and scissors before discarding her own soiled garments, making sure Jon had looked away. She placed items for cleaning by the edge of the water and began to walk in, carrying their soap in one hand.

Sansa quickly washed herself before moving towards Jon, his back to her. “You need to wash, take the soap for me.” He did as she requested and Sansa began to scrub his hair before moving lower to his back, arms, and chest. “Rinse and then move to shallower water. I want to look at your legs.”  

Jon grumbled about it, but went to sit on one of the nearby rocks with his eyes closed. “Do you think I am incapable of cleaning myself?”

Secretly, Sansa thought exactly that. He and Robb used to hide from old Nan at bath times when they were young and he had preferred to play about in the water before she began forcing him to wash. Jon would look like a wildling savage if Sansa did not see to him. “I enjoy taking care of you.”

He moved off the rock and stood before her. “Can I open my eyes now?”

Septa Mordane told Sansa her body was only for her lord husband’s pleasure. It was a grievous sin to offer any part of it to another man. But, this was Jon and she grew more certain with every passing day, they belonged together. “You can open them.”

Jon gave a loud exhale, not expecting her to be standing before him. His gaze fell to her breasts. Sansa knew he had caught glimpses of her before but this was the first time she had granted permission. His hand reached towards her, shaking ever so slightly. Jon was just as scared as she was.

“I've wanted to touch you before, many times, but I did not think it was right,”  he murmured. “Does that shock you?”

“No.” she answering, summoning her courage and continuing, “You could, I would like it.”

They stood facing each other, the cool water ending at her waist. Droplets fell from his hair and down his cheek to his neck and chin. Sansa reached out, stopping one as it dripped from his shoulder.

“I would like that too.” His voice was low and husky. Jon’s fingers slid from the top of her chest to slowly cup her right breast.

Sansa heard her breath hitch when he stroked her nipple. She had never been touched in such a way before, it was more pleasurable than she would have thought. Septa Mordane had never told her she might enjoy what happens in a marriage bed, Sansa had thought her only duty was to see to her husband’s needs.

Jon must have heard her because he began to circle her nipple once more, growing it into an even harder peak. A sigh escaped her, she was enjoying his touches.

“Your skin is so smooth,” he said, quietly. So quiet, Sansa could not say whether he meant to speak them aloud. Jon’s mouth hung open and a blush appeared on his checks. His hand began to drift, past her stomach and lower.

Sansa stepped away, breaking their contact. “We will do that again,” she promised. It did not feel right to call what they had just done sin, even if Jon was not her lord husband. They belonged to each other, Sansa knew they did, and that was almost the same. “Swim, I will see to our clothing.”

She drew away, Jon staring after her as she did so. Sansa washed their clothes, using up the very last of their soap to do so, and laid them on nearby rocks to dry. After, Sansa left the pool behind to dress and brush her hair before calling on Jon to do the same.

“Do you think I am also incapable of brushing my own hair?”

They were sitting on the bank together, in the soft, green grass that grew close to the water.  Soon, they would need to go off in search of food, but not quite yet.

Sansa laughed. “Very capable. It needed a bit of trimming though.” He sat in front of her while she worked, so Sansa put her arms around him, resting her head against his back, reveling in the feel of his sun-warmed skin against her cheek.

Jon turned to face her, his expression inscrutable, before touching the favor he kept on his right arm.  Suddenly, his hands were at her waist and his lips on hers as he moved to slowly lay her in the grass. Jon drew himself over her as one hand cupped her neck and jaw before moving up to twine his finger in her hair. Sansa relaxed into his touches, putting her arms around his waist to pull him closer to her.

Their kiss went on and on, an endless blending of lips and tongues, before Jon broke away to lick at a sensitive spot behind her ear and gently suckle. “I better stop,” he said, his voice gone harsh and raspy, his breath fast and heavy.

Sansa wanted more from him, so much more, but she only nodded. “We should get food and we need to say prayers for that poor man, remember?”  

Jon drew himself up before helping her to do the same. “Aye. The man can wait another day, though. We need to move our household off the beach first.”

She felt a strange disquiet go through her. “Why?”

He touched the favor on his arm again, the second time she had seen him do so since they woke that morning. “To be safe, in case those men return.” Jon scratched at his hair, already mussing the curls she had just combed through.

Sansa could hear her heart beating, his words did not feel right to her. “Will we be able to return soon? The beach is our home, Jon. I like it there.”

He took her hand in his own. “Of course, we will. It’ll only be for a short while.” But, Jon did not look at her when he spoke the words.

She felt a queer chill go through her. Sansa remembered a night, long ago, when her and Jeyne had stolen some of her parent’s Arbor gold to drink. The wine had been sweet and she had been tempted to drink more than she ever had before. After the first cup, it was easy for them to say they were not drunk and to believe it, too. This felt the same, only instead of Arbor gold, Jon was serving her a lie. It was a sweet lie though.

Sansa dismissed this thought, determined to believe she was mistaken. This was her Jon, they did not lie to each other.

*****

Jon returned to their new home at the base of the mountain, feeling rather proud. He had stumbled upon some crabs and they now hung upon a spear he had fashioned from a thick branch. The two of them would have a feast that evening.

Nearly two moons had passed since the day Jon had chased away those Greyjoy men. As best as he could tell, they had yet to return and Jon dearly hoped they never did. Slowly, he was growing to worry over that possibility less and less. These past several days, it was Sansa that concerned him.

At first, Jon had not noticed any sort of difference at all. They kissed more and she sang to him as she always had, even as he’d insisted they stay away from the beach when possible. She had begun to change the day he’d decided to teach her how to collect fish in the mornings. Jon had placed one in her hands, but Sansa had promptly thrown it back in the ocean and run away shrieking. He had chased after, only to listen to her yell that it was worse than the time Robb had tricked her into touching a frog. His efforts to explain that he’d only wanted her to learn had proven fruitless, she refused to even listen.

That night, Sansa did not sing for him. After that, she had turned away from him in their bed rather than drawing close as was their habit. The previous day, Jon had been stunned to realize her kisses were dutiful ones, he had not kissed her since.

Worst of all, Jon suspected he knew why Sansa behaved as she did and it frightened him. He had stalked the Greyjoy men, and after listening to them, Jon had known if found, they would have killed him. That had not scared him, but the anger and betrayal he would see in Sansa if she learned the truth, Jon did not think he could bear it.

“I found crabs. We can cook them over the fire easily enough.”

Sansa leaned against a nearby pine tree, intensely looking at a square of fabric. Jon suspected he would learn what she was planning soon enough. “Thank you, Jon. I appreciate all you have done for me.”  Her words were proper and courteous, yet he felt as if they were a weapon she had turned on him.

Once, Jon had felt riddled with guilt over his feelings for Sansa. He would hear Robb and Lord Stark in his head, whispering judgement for his bastard’s lust. But they no longer spoke to him once he had realized it was his vows to Sansa and his love for her that he needed to honor.

He would always keep his vows to her, even if they drew her wrath, leaving him alone and heartbroken. Jon supposed he could take comfort in knowing there was a bastard’s honor in that.

Jon sat across from her, the dead crabs momentarily forgotten. He swallowed thickly before speaking, “There is something I must tell you.”

Sansa set the fabric in her lap to peer back at him, her face absent any expression. “Did you wish to speak with me?”

Jon ignored her question, he did not know how to answer it. “Do you remember the day those strange men appeared on the beach?”

She did not speak, only nodding her head tightly.

He drew his courage one more time. Jon had vowed to keep her safe and his actions had been the right ones, he knew that. “I did not tell you all. Those men, they were part of House Greyjoy, just as I said. The rest though, I heard them say your name, more than once. They also spoke of Winterfell and taking you home. We were right to hide away though, I know we were.”

Sansa merely blinked at him.  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We will see Winterfell in the next chapter. Sadly for poor Jon and Sansa, their time on the island isn't over for a good while. 
> 
> Once again, there is a scene in this chapter inspired by this incredibly beautiful [mood board ](http://kittykatknits.tumblr.com/post/159575895767/httparchiveofourownorgworks9863948chapters221332).


	11. Chapter 11

She did not answer him, choosing to pick up her little square of fabric instead. Her long hair fell down around her face, obscuring her expression. Not for the first time, Jon wished he could hear her thoughts.

 “Sansa? Did you hear me?” Tentatively, Jon placed his hand over hers, hoping to gain her attention.

 Her eyes followed the trail from his hand, up his arm and shoulder, until they met his own. “Of course I did. They spoke my name and said they planned to take me home.”

 Jon waited for her to say more but she did not. If he had thought telling her the rest of that day would end the tension between them, her silence made clear how very mistaken he was. The distance that had somehow grown was still there. “I was right about the rest of it, you did not see them. They killed that man as if it was no matter, one of them laughed over it. I heard them talking about salt wives.” It was this talk that convinced him they could not be trusted. They would have killed him and taken her, Jon did not doubt it.

 Sansa pulled her hand from his grasp. “I do not know what a salt wife is, Jon.”

 He swallowed, feeling suddenly awkward. “Theon told me about them. Ironborn take women whenever they want and make them salt wives. If a man finds a woman he likes…”, he drifted off, hoping she would understand his meaning.

 She nodded her head and met his eyes once again. “I believe you. I trusted you that day to keep me safe and you did. We trust each other.” She tapped the favor he wore on his right arm, the touch of her finger tip so light he barely felt it through the fabric. The white had dulled some from his constant wear, she had asked to wash it more than once but he could not bear to take it off.

 Sansa wore an expression he could not place, she wanted something but he did not know what. “We trust each other,” he repeated.

 His response disappointed her, Jon could see that much easily enough. She sighed, hesitating, before asking, “Do you love me at all?”

 Her question felt like a stab in the gut, he showed his devotion to her every day. “How could you doubt that? We may not have spoken much as children but I still loved you.” As soon as he finished speaking, Jon could tell those were not the words she had wished for.  

 Sansa laid down her scrap of fabric next to her, it had grown twisted and wound up in her hands while they had spoken. “I need to collect some flowers. Will you excuse me?”

 Jon acknowledged her question and watched her pick up one of the little baskets they had before walking away. His sense of defeat left him as she went off on her errand, to be replaced by irritation. He had spoken in vain, his efforts to explain a waste. She had not listened. He had done everything she asked of him, kept every vow sworn to her. Jon had been right and Sansa rejected him over it.

 He picked up the crabs he had taken for their dinner that night. Jon shelled and washed them before wrapping the meat in dried seaweed and stored them away next to the fire, not yet ready to place it on the hot coals.

 Jon looked over the new home, now located at the base of Shadow Mountain, close to that rock outcropping should they need to escape again. He did not care much for it, he missed the open expanse on the beach, but it was safer where they now lived. They had given up on building a more permanent home, finally admitting they lacked the skills to do so. Jon needed to spread hunting snares further and further out to to capture small game now, he planned to pull them once they had enough fat stored up to make another batch of soap. He would need to look elsewhere for meat until the rabbit and squirrel populations once again grew in size.

 He put his boots on, ignoring his pinched feet, before gathering fresh wood for the fire. Jon had developed a grid pattern over much of the island, picking from one area before moving on to the next. After, he went to work on a new privy trench, Jon wanted something more permanent and further away from they lived. This was another task he could only do without Sansa’s presence. It was the same as hunting or his failed attempt to teach her fishing, she did not want to know. He had noticed this before, Sansa had a knack for it. If he spoke of his worries over food, Sansa would only put her arms around him and whisper sweet words, she would bewitch him with her promise of magic on the island and Jon would believe her. It was easy to do so, at least until he would check his traps and find them empty once more. Then, all his worries would come back to him.

 Jon worked until the sweat streamed down his back and chest, before deciding to continue another day. It was a laborious task and slow going, they did not have a shovel so he had fashioned a tool from large pieces of wood and strips of leather Sansa had cut from that cloak they had found. He wiped his brow, shoving the hair from his eyes, and decided to clean up before she returned. He still needed to shed the walnut branches he’d picked up for their teeth but that could be done by evening firelight.

 He set off to the water to clean the dirt and sweat off his body, stripping completely before wading in. Jon enjoyed the initial shock of cold water on his thighs as he wandered in, letting it distract him from thoughts of Sansa. There was no soap so he scrubbed the dirt away as best he could.

 Jon floated on the surface, letting the sun’s afternoon warmth soak into body as his thoughts once more turned to Sansa. He’d told her the truth and she had not listened. This knowledge pricked at him until Jon wandered over to the cattails that grew on one side of the pond and picked up a leaf. He let out a wordless shriek of joy as an idea struck.

 The leaf still in hand, Jon left the water, intending to go in search of Sansa, except she was already standing before him. He stared at her, taking in what she had done to herself, making him feel vulnerable in front of her. Sansa wore her chemise as he had seen on her many times before, the thing was thin, almost  transparent now, short enough that it barely covered any of her legs at all. The top did little to conceal her breasts, they peaked out for him to feast upon with his eyes. Sansa may as well have gone naked for all the difference that piece of cloth did for her. It was the flowers that stood out though, the blue and yellow ones that grew wild all over the island. She had strung them in her hair and tucked one each behind her ears. Several of the blue ones lay between her breasts and the top, resting as if they were a decorative piece. The yellow ones were somehow intertwined with the straps of her gown. Sansa looked as if she had dressed herself in battle armor while he stood before her completely unclothed.

 “I had an idea for -” A ball of mud hit him in the chest. “What was that for?” he asked, bewildered.

 Sansa pulled one hand from behind her back to show the second ball hidden away, this time it landed on his shoulder. “You deserve that and more for what you did. You swore we would go back.”

 A handful of mud stuck to his chest. Jon wiped it off, leaving a trail of dirt and muck behind him, clinging to the hairs on his chest. He did not know if he should respond to her or dress himself first. Jon settled for attempting to cover his cock but that only made his discomfort grow. “I told you why, I told you what they said.” She had not listened.

 “You said only a few days, we only needed to hide away for a few days. Then we moved and then we moved again. I did it all because I trusted you even as a part of me knew you kept the truth hidden away. This is our island, ours. We decide together.”

 Their very first day, Sansa had thrown mud at him before telling him he ruined everything and pushed him into the water. He had retaliated and done the same to her. It was anger in her voice then. Today, it was hurt and betrayal.

 Jon slid two fingers along the long leaf of the cattail before letting it fall to the ground. He thought of Lord Eddard and the trust the man had given him and Robb who had made him promise to keep her safe while the snowflakes melted in his hair. He had sworn to them and to himself, he would keep her safe, even if it meant losing her love. “No. We decide most things together, how we live and which of us picks the apples. You chose most of our rules and when I could kiss you. It was you that decided how we sleep. If I say we need to move, then that’s what we do. If I say you need to run, then you run. I promised to keep you safe, not to discuss it with you.”

 Sansa did not speak, turning away to sit in the nearby grass. It was deliberate, she wanted to hide her face away from him while she thought of her response. Jon followed after, sitting across from her, not taking the time to dress. She had not spoken of his nakedness so far, but she was talking to him again, and he would not risk losing this.

 “If you expect me to trust you, then you must do the same for me.”

 He nodded, eager to reassure her. “I do, you know all my secrets, Sansa.”

 She slowly raised her head to meet his eyes. It felt to Jon as if she was gathering her courage. “If that is so, then answer my earlier question.”

 Sansa had trapped him and they both knew it, he could see the triumph in her. Jon had thought he could avoid telling her why he had kept quiet over those men. He had known she would work at him until she’d successfully wrested how he felt about her. He had sought to avoid that too.

 Jon had not been afraid that day on the beach, he had known if they found him, then he would be killed but it had made no matter. The fear he had been hiding from was that of a boy, a craven. Jon Snow had pledged himself to her and wore her favor. He loved her.

 “You want to know my feelings? Those men, I know that I was right but another part of me wonders, what if I was wrong? Maybe they were there to save you and I kept you from it.” Jon rubbed at his face until he realized that it only spread dirt on his cheek and nose. “I might have prevented your rescue and I didn’t want you to know that. As for the rest, no, my love for you is not that of a cousin. You ask me questions, so many of them, who have I loved, who did I want to kiss, what girl I think of, what girl I dream of, the images in my mind when I am alone. I show you every day, over and over. All those questions only have one answer, you.”

 Jon’s vulnerability grew while he waited for a response. He felt defenseless. She had trapped him while he stood undressed before her as she forced him to bare even more.

 Sansa took his hand in her own. “Jon,” she whispered, as a tear fell down her cheek.

 He caught it with his thumb.

 *****

_Winterfell...Well over one year earlier_

Robb studied his mother’s face, her features had grown sharp since they had first learned the news of Sansa. The missive, the shape of the parchment and the printed words, would haunt him for the rest of his days. It had left him a mother slowly consumed by grief and a father even further haunted by guilt and broken promises to his long dead sister.

Catelyn Stark had turned to the sept and prayers in her grief, spending her days and her nights on her knees, moving from one statue to the next, begging the mother and the stranger and the crone, for any news or any bit of hope. His lord father had disappeared to the godswood and the Winterfell heart tree, sharpening his sword and waiting for the old gods to speak. For a long while, Robb had been certain laughter would never be heard within the castle walls again. Rickon, his youngest sibling, had taken to following him around as he did his duties or hiding away in the crypts. Bran would climb the walls and disappear for entire days while Arya grew ever angrier in her pain, unable to process the loss of her cousin. Robb had lost his best friend and little sister who only ever called him her truest knight.

Then, one day, his father had gone to visit his wife in the sept where they had sat together for many hours before emerging. Robb never knew what transpired between them but life slowly came back to Winterfell.

Now, they were gathered together in his father’s solar, to discuss the letter just arrived from the Iron Islands. He did not know what to make of it.

“Ned, if we must trade one boy for Sansa, then it is a bargain. I want her safe, home with us.”

“The Greyjoys can not be trusted, you know that as well as I do. We took his son, they have not forgotten that. Tell me Robb, what do believe we should do?”

Robb considered, his father had been questioning him in this way more and more, preparing him  for the time he would one day rule over Winterfell and the north. He picked up the letter from Balon Greyjoy and read it one more time.

If the Greyjoys had Sansa as they claimed, an exchange could mean both her and Jon returning home to them. If they did not, then his father would lose a hostage and have disobeyed King Robert. He looked at his mother with pity and spoke.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We will see Winterfell (and Robb) again in the next chapter.


	12. Chapter 12

“Robb, I need to tell you a secret.” Bran looked up at him from under his furs, his features solemn and earnest. His brother was no longer a young boy but there were still nights Robb would take him to bed. He’d once done so for Sansa when still lived.

“Climbing the walls like a squirrel again are you?” Their mother had forbidden it more than once.

“I dreamt I was in the crypts looking for Jon and Sansa.”

Grief fell over Robb as that familiar ache in his heart returned. He’d once dreamed of visiting Jon in King’s Landing, they could fight together in a melee tourney and he would train with the great knights of the Kingsguard. That dream had been taken from him, he hoped to never make the journey to King’s Landing. “What did you see in your dream?” His question came out as a croak.

Bran took his hand. “I could not find them, I kept looking and looking but they were not there. I saw our grandfather and Jon’s mother.” He pulled himself up to whisper in Robb’s ear. “They aren’t dead, I know it. They want us to find them.”

Robb blinked back tears. Jon had been as close as a brother and Sansa was his beloved younger sister. “Perhaps we could ask our father to send us looking for them? We could go on a grand adventure together.” Robb had long passed his sixteenth nameday, he was a man grown now.  Even as Robb thought it, he dismissed the idea. 

Robb went to bed that night thinking of his cousin and Sansa. One day, he would be the lord of Winterfell and rule. He could look for them all he wanted then. He fell asleep hoping to dream of the crypts below but his slumber was a dreamless one. Robb woke the next morning to find Theon Greyjoy had slipped away during the night and a raven newly arrived from King’s Landing. Robert Baratheon was dead, killed tragically in a hunting accident.

*****

Sansa had left Jon alone, using the excuse of flowers to escape and get away. She had taken several to weave together into a crown and necklace. As she worked, Sansa felt her anger grow. She was fifteen and a woman flowered, she ruled as much Jon did. 

It was late afternoon when Sansa decided to go in search of Jon. She had spent the time marshaling her courage, preparing to demand that they move as she wished. He could not force her to stay where she did not want too. Yet, as Jon explained, her doubts returned once more. He was not wrong.

“It was not my intent to upset you,” he said hoarsely. Jon’s thumb caught her tear, wiping it away. “We would have done the same, but you were right, I should have told you.”

Sansa took his hand in hers, turning it so the palm faced up, and traced the outline of a heart with her finger. “I am not upset.” She spoke true. Her love had declared himself to her and banished the remaining traces of anger away. “I have my own confession to make.”  

“Did you build us a new home while I was swimming?”

She laughed before letting out a sigh. “We’ll be living in our stupid hovel for some time yet.”

“It’s not stupid.”

It was ugly as well. “It’s no Winterfell.” Sansa considered, it was a great secret she was sharing. “It is ours though, yours and mine.” It would have been easy to close her eyes and speak but Sansa looked at him, meeting Jon’s gaze. She had as much courage as he did. “Do you remember the day I came upon you? I worried you loved someone else and I wanted you to love me instead. We belong together, I have known this since that day.”

The mud she had thrown at him had dried, leaving behind a trail of dirt along his chest.  Jon’s beard had dirt in it as well. She stroked his whiskers in an attempt to wipe it away.

He turned his head ever so slightly, kissing her fingers. “Sansa,” he whispered.

She decided. “You need to clean off. I’ll join you.”

Jon looked disappointed but nodded his head. He stood, turning away from her. That did not feel right, not now. She approached him, touching his back, lightly grazing along his side. He jumped ever so slightly in surprise. “Jon, let’s show each other. I want you to look.”

He turned, choosing to focus on the ground rather than her. “I want you to,” she repeated. 

Sansa could feel the pounding of her heart but it was from excitement rather than fear. Once, she had imagined a moment like this with her husband after the bedding ceremony. It had been one of her secret dreams, the dream of an innocent child. She removed her flower crown and necklace before taking off her clothes. Soon enough, she was bare, just as he was.

Jon was staring, his eyes blown wide as he took her in. She could see the rapid movements of his chest as he breathed. His manhood was thick and hard with black hair all around. She wondered if it would be as smooth and soft as the rest of his skin. Sansa had seen before but had never let herself linger over his body, not this way. “You’re beautiful, Jon Snow.”

“Men don’t much care for being called beautiful.” He was grinning though.

“Handsome then. Let’s clean first.” Jon was still beautiful to her, even if he did not wish to hear it. 

Sansa went to take his hand but Jon picked her up instead, flashing a mischievous smile.

“You would not dare.”

“You’ll lose that wager.” He walked until the water reached past his waist and threw her. 

Sansa heard his sharp cackling laugh before she disappeared underwater. She shot up, pulling her wet hair back. “That was unchivalrous, ser,” she admonished.

“It was no more than you deserved, throwing mud as you did.” He picked her up at the waist, pulling her close to his chest and kissing her. “I fight back. I want to show you something.”

He took her hand, leading her to the edge of the water. Sansa felt joy surging through her body at his touch, Jon Snow loved her. 

He pulled at a cattail leaf and handed it to her. “Can you make us shoes? Yours pinch as much as mine do.”

Sansa took the leaf, wrapping it in her hands. It was a thick, coarse material but Jon would quickly wear through them. Even so, if they lasted a fortnight, she could bring him some relief and cattails grew quickly. “I will try.”

“You will.” He looked at her with an expression Sansa realized was pride.

She began pulling at the leaves, planning to take several back home with her, when she felt Jon’s hand on her shoulder before it slid down her back, settling at her hip. Sansa shivered, but not from the cool water. 

“I’m clean now.” His voice was rough.

“As am I.” Sansa felt as if she was drowning in bliss. Jon loved her and they were together now. She dropped the cattails, letting them float away, before turning to face him. 

He grabbed her waist, pulling her up.

Sansa wrapped her arms around his neck and leaned in to kiss him, her patience fled. “Jon….”

He gently set her down. “The sun will dry us. Come on.” 

He took her hand and Sansa could not say which of them pulled the other from the water in their eagerness. They left the water pool together, walking to the nearby grass where Jon kissed her again. Her breath hitched at the first touch of his tongue, he always tasted sweet to her. 

They kept kissing and kissing as Sansa realized he was lowering her to the ground, not stopping until she felt the soft blades of grass against her skin and Jon blanketing her, arms on either side of her shoulders. 

He moved lower, kissing her chin and down her neck to her clavicle and chest. “I used to imagine kissing you here.” He circled one nipple with his finger before kissing and gently licking it. He did the same to her other breast, Sansa had never felt a greater pleasure in all her days.

Then he began to kiss her belly and lower until she felt his fingers in the curls of her mound, gently combing through them. “I remember discovering you were red here too, I knew I shouldn’t look at you but I did.” He kissed her where his fingers had just touched.

Sansa felt a queer tightening low in her stomach, an unfamiliar tension. “Jon, I want you to…” She did not finish, unsure of what she wanted. 

His lips were on hers once more. Sansa put her arms around his neck, bringing him as close as she could for a kiss that she never wanted to end. 

This was not sin, Septa Mordane was wrong. They were meant to be together, this was not wrong. 

*****

Jon often thought of that day two moons passed, he had finally touched her as he’d dreamed of. Sansa had let him look and explore her body and he’d done so. They had lain together at the water’s edge until the sun began to sink, learning about the other. A part of Jon knew it was wrong but one touch from Sansa and any guilt he carried would vanish away.

They were sitting together now, sharing supper as the sky darkened around them. Their meal was simple, as it always was, a bit of fish, the last of their rabbit meat, and blueberries. 

“Be gentle with them.” 

Jon picked up the shoes Sansa had created, their design made him think of lady’s slippers. She had used strips of the cattail leaves, weaving them together somehow along with a set of straps along the top. “It feels strong to me.” Jon had been the one to cut the leaves up for her use, he knew that well enough.

Sansa rubbed her fingers against his doublet. “They’ll wear quickly as you walk.” She took one of his feet in her hands, stroking the top. “Your feet were beginning to blister.” 

It had taken some time for Sansa to work through, but she’d made him shoes just as he’d known she would. That day had led to new small clothes for them both as well. Her chemise had been cut up into long strips with attached strings they could tie. The fit was a bit loose but they had both needed more. He wondered what Sansa would do when she ran out of material for them but he didn’t dare to speak of it. She would only tell him they would find an answer together. So far, she had been right. 

“Will you be taking my boots then?” 

She wrinkled her nose, that amused him. Her reaction reminded him of those captain’s tunics she insisted on calling gowns. “Your boots are ugly.” 

Jon didn’t think their appearance mattered overly much, the shoes worked well enough, but he did not tell her that. “Aye, I meant to carve flowers into them before leaving Winterfell."

Sansa turned her head sharply to look at him, her blue eyes shining from the firelight. “Was that a jape?”

Jon picked up her hand, kissing the palm. “Not at all. I meant to bring my collection of ribbons too.”

She looked at him in challenge. “Careful ser, if you had ribbons, I would likely dress you up in them.”

“You would not dare.” That was a lie, Jon would have let her. 

“I would braid them in your hair.” 

“I would hack it all off.”

“I would hide away your knives.”

He looked at her then, wearing that grey doublet he had given her so long ago, and felt himself growing as hard as the rocks that lay in the forest all around them. “I would let you do anything you wanted.”

“Jon,” she sighed. 

He no longer cared about ribbons or shoes or any other garment. Jon turned so they were facing each other and leaned in to kiss her. She began pulling at her clothes, quickly moving away to lift them of, before kissing him once more. He cupped the back of her neck, bringing her close to taste her with his tongue. Dimly, he was aware of Sansa’s hands at his hips to pull his skirt off so they were both as naked as their name day.

“Lay back,” she said, pushing at his chest. Jon did so as Sansa straddled his hips. “We belong together,” she murmured absently. He had begun to think it had some secret meaning for Sansa but he had not asked. Jon only knew he loved her. 

Sansa placed both her hands on his chest, pressing ever so slightly. One finger traced a path down his stomach and lower. She move down, off his hips so she sat between his legs. Jon felt the roar of blood in his head as his breathing grew shallow.  He put his weight on his arms so he could look down on her, feeling the anticipation of what she might do. 

“I want to touch you.” Sansa began lightly pulling at the hair around his cock before gliding down to cup him and then suddenly he felt her hand begin to stroke.

Jon let the air leave his body in a loud exhale. She had not done this before. He closed his eyes, feeling dizzy, to lose himself in the pleasure she gave him. Jon began to buck his hips with her movements and shame came over him as he realized what would happen if she continued.

He sat up, pulling her hand away and grabbing her about the waist, flipping them so she lay underneath. He kissed her then with more force than was usual. Sansa whimpered into his mouth. “Sansa,” he breathed against her. They were looking into each other’s eyes.

Jon stroked down her body, lightly squeezing one breast before moving towards her cunt. He had looked many times before, seen the pink between her legs, he’d touched her before too. But this was different. Jon combed through her hair and one finger fell between the slit, her breath hitching as he did so. 

At her nod, Jon slid one finger into her, gently thrusting before adding a second finger. Sansa’s eyes turned into dark blue pools of pleasure as a sweet moan left her. He kept it up, gliding his fingers in and out of her, faster and faster, taking pleasure at her reaction.

Sansa began arching her back as her breath grew shallow. Jon gave her a deep kiss, pressing his lips against hers as she began to move against him. Her skin grew flushed and she suddenly stilled. Jon withdrew his fingers, wanting to watch her. 

Slowly, Sansa opened her eyes once more, looking dazed. “What did you do?”

He did not know, Jon had never done it before. “I wanted you to feel good and you seemed to like it.”

Jon laid next to her, pulling Sansa onto his chest, wanting to feel her against him. The fire light illuminated her body in a beautiful glow, adding to his ache. He wanted everything from her but it was not his to take. The sky was fully dark now, they would need to go to bed soon but not yet, he was content to enjoy the intimacy that had further grown between them.

“Jon, I want to ask you a question.”

“What do you wish to know?” He pulled her hair away, wanting to better see her face.

Sansa closed her eyes, squeezing tight, before looking at him, her expression determined. “I think we should lay together.”

“We do, every night.” He could hear the beat of his heart over the words she spoke. Jon wanted it too but he had no right.

She moved her head slightly against his chest, the strands of her hair tickling him ever so slightly. “As a man and wife do, in the marriage bed.”

Jon forgot to breathe.

 


	13. Chapter 13

Jon did not answer, letting the silence between them grow. He could hear the sharp pop from the nearby fire as the wood split. The wind shifted ever so slightly, sending a wave of heat over his body, spreading gooseflesh in its wake. He pulled himself up, resting his weight on his forearms to better peer down at her. “Tonight?” His voice cracked. 

“No. Septa Mordane explained when a couple wed, it is a great thing for a lady to give her new husband the gift of her maidenhead. We belong together.” She kissed his chest. It was a kiss meant to provide comfort rather than to stir. “We would need to prepare first.”

“Aye, we would.” Jon did not not know what she meant by prepare, Sansa would tell him eventually, he could wait. She spoke of her maidenhead as a great gift. His mother most likely thought the same once and she had died for it. 

The next morning, Jon woke to a lilac sky, streaks of pink and peach offering the first hint of sunrise. Sansa slept on beside him, her hand resting low on his stomach. He eased away from her easily enough, a habit learned from long practice. He quickly pissed before moving towards the small pools he used to catch fish. Their only chance for meat lay in whether or not any fish awaited  him, their rabbit the previous night had been the last of it. The population of geese and crab were small ones, Jon could not depend upon it with any regularity.  

Jon heaved a great sigh to find two good-sized fish waiting for him. He left one, the ocean tides would reclaim it soon enough, taking the other to gut and cook. Sansa had woken while he was away, to forage as was her usual routine. He went off to gather wood while she was gone, it was the only task of his remaining that required them to part. 

He returned home once again to find Sansa had failed to return, the only clue to her location lay in a trail of blue at his feet. Jon followed the petals, his initial sense of amusement quickly turning to alarm as he realized where they led. He dashed off, running towards her, through the trees, coming to an abrupt halt next to her.

“You should not be here,” he curtly remind her. 

Sansa stood before the dead ironborn, fresh blue flowers lay at his feet. The air stunk with the putrid sweetness of death and rot. “I am not afraid. I remember what you said and made sure to check for any sign of ship or sail before leaving the trees.”

Jon moved towards her, picking up the small bouquet of flowers before looking for any remaining evidence of their presence. The sand beneath their feet was dry, any trace of their prints would be gone within hours. “Why did you come?”

She stepped towards him, leaning up ever so slightly to kiss his chin. “I will explain.” Jon could not hear upset or disappointment in her voice. She took his hand in hers, leading him into the trees, towards home. “I did not expect you so soon.”

Jon had abstained from taking himself in hand that morning, wanting to return to her as quickly as possible. He could not tell her that. “Only the one fish close to shore.”

“There will be more tomorrow and you’ll hunt again, soon enough.” She smiled confidently at him. It was not meant as reassurance, Sansa possessed no doubt that all would be well. 

They would increase their treks to the walnut tree, the dried nuts had become another food source for them. Jon was quickly growing tired of their bitter taste but they kept bellies full well enough. He saw many days of fish and walnuts in their future, with the plants Sansa foraged adding to them.

Later, as they ate their squash and what Jon thought may be tuna together, he brought up the dead ironborn.

“No one will sing songs of him. The poor man is fated to be alone for all time, perhaps there is a lady missing him or perhaps his death is long forgotten. Not everyone has the fortune to have what we do.”

“And what do we have?” Jon had thought on this many times. Sansa was the eldest daughter of the lord paramount of the north, to a line going back almost ten thousand years. She was betrothed to the heir of the seven kingdoms. Jon was merely the bastard of a dead house, removed from the throne by the very same family she would wed into. He had no fortune or name, no lands. If Jon laid with her, as dearly as he may wish it, Sansa would be left with no prospects should they ever be rescued. 

Sansa swallowed her last bite of food before sucking on her finger. The act was so different from her usual manners, she clung to correct behavior as much as she could, stranded away as they were. Her actions roused him. She wore one of the old captain’s tunics but had long since removed the sleeves. He could see the gentle slope of her breasts through the overly large arm holes. 

She turned to face him, leaning one hip against his thigh with her knees bent, lacing her arms around his neck. “Everything. We belong to each other.”

Jon knew she spoke the truth. No matter how the fates intervened, he could not imagine himself with another woman. “And if a ship from White Harbor or King’s Landing somehow happened upon us?”

“How long have we been here? Over two years.”

Jon no longer tracked the days so closely, he watched the turns of the moon, one after the other. “Close to two.”

“My betrothal to Joffrey Baratheon was ended long ago, they would not wait on my potential discovery.” Sansa tapped his forehead with her finger. “I can hear your thoughts, Jon Snow, and you’re wrong.”

He took her hand, kissing the fingers. “How am I wrong?” 

“You worry over who we are and what may happen. We’ve spoken of this many times before. This is our land, we make the rules, no one else. We belong together and who is to tell us that cannot be?”

Jon thought her brother Robb and her lord father may think differently but he did not want to speak their names. Robb would not believe taking his sister’s maidenhead was any sort of protection at all.

Sansa clasped his face, forcing him to look at her, as she moved to straddle him. “This is our land, Jon. Perhaps always.” Her voice lowered to a whisper at the end.

It was the truth they never spoke of. They may never be rescued, fated to spend the rest of their days lost from the world. In a place where the only rules were those made by them. “We have no septon or heart tree.” 

If they were in King’s Landing, Sansa would have been married by the High Septon himself in the Sept of Baelor. The city’s bells would have rung in celebration. It would have been a day of feasting, with singers and mummer’s shows to entertain. Sansa would have received gifts from all the major houses, rare lace from Myr, silk brocade, cloth of gold, and jeweled hair nets. Her new husband would have placed his bridal cloak on her as a symbol of his protection. Jon had no cloak, merely a rock crevice to hide her away. He had no fine clothes, only the remnants from a dead sea captain.

“Can we not decide for ourselves? My father sent me south to marry someone I did not know.  He could be a good man, who would have loved me as Jaehaerys loved his wife. Or maybe Joffrey is a tyrant, another Maegor the Cruel. I do not know him, but I know you. Why must that be the way of it? Why can I not choose who I love?” Sansa placed her hand on his heart at that, her fingers beating a rhythm against his, the tap tap of a heart beat. 

“Do you know what would happen to us if we were rescued someday?” Jon knew. He did not think Lord Eddard would kill him. Jon would go to the wall. Sansa would be forced to marry the second or third son of a minor house somewhere. A Stark girl had been sent to the Royces once before, it could happen again. Robb loved his sister though, if there was ever to be any hope for them, it lay with Robb. 

“I think it does not matter. We may never be and if we were? I would not allow them to take you from me,” she hissed. He could hear a ferocity to her words that was rare, Sansa truly meant it. Bridal cloak or no, she considered them bound together in all the ways that mattered. 

She was not wrong. He’d sworn knight’s vows to her once, he’d told her he would protect her and work to bring her joy. Sansa had the right of it, here, they could do as they pleased, he could have her. If they were ever to leave, return to the north and Winterfell, proclaiming their love for each other would matter little. He would lose her. 

One the previous night, Jon had admitted he would do whatever she asked of him. That was no lie, whether it was right of him or not. “I want you,” he confessed. 

She looked down at him, smiling ever so softly. “Septa Mordane told me many things, long ago, and I believed her. She was wrong though, you showed me that. I want you too.”

Sansa kissed him then, lightly cupping his face as she had earlier. He latched onto her hips, pulling her close to him. The kiss was gentle, it felt like a promise. 

A part of him wanted to lay her down then but that would not be right.

She could not mistake the swelling between his legs either. “Sansa, I have dried fish guts on my legs and salt from the ocean all over me.” 

“Let’s wash then. After….” She did not finish and he did not dare ask.

“They stood to clean up their morning meal. Jon wrapped the remaining fish in dried seaweed while she put the rest of the squash and some blueberries in a basket close to the fire. 

He took her hand, lightly stroking the inside of her palm, before leading her away so they could wash. They undressed together, Jon no longer turned his back to her when they did so. Now, he stood still, riveted in place by the sight of her. He had seen Sansa in her nameday suit many times, had taken in forbidden glimpses of her body. Her legs were long and even lightly muscled from the activity of her life. The red curls between her legs still drew forth a whimper from him, he’d felt the luckiest man in all the seven kingdoms the first time he’d spied her there. 

Jon believed Sansa felt the same way. He still recalled the first time she’d touched his cock, her touch had been hesitant but her gaze determined. 

It was later, as they were swimming together, that Jon noticed the darkening sky. The cloudless blue had disappeared, turning to a pale grey. “It will rain soon,” he told her.

He’d spoken true, a short while later, a rain cloud appeared in the sky, moving towards them. 

Sansa drew herself up, the water ending at her nippes, the pink tops of them peeking out. Jon could not resist the temptation, reaching out to pinch one. Sansa jumped back, laughing in surprise. She drew her head back, looking upwards, her hair darkened by the water. A single drop of water landed on the tip of her nose, falling down her cheek before disappearing away. 

“Our clothes,” Sansa gasped in alarm. 

They left, quickly dressing, as the occasional bit of rain hit them.

Jon gave a peck to her cheek. “Our home will be the driest place for us.” Sansa insisted on calling it a hovel. She was not wrong, but it was their home all the same. It was built with several branches layered on each other, open at one side, and lay beneath the thick canopy of trees. Other than the rock crevice, it was the driest place on the island.

“Run,” she squealed out.

Sansa did just as she ordered him to, not bothering to look and see if he followed. Jon gave chase, quickly catching up. 

He came up behind her, grabbing her about the waist. “Are you trying to escape, my lady?”

Sansa laughed, making him think of music. “I merely wish to stay dry, ser.”

The rain began to fall. The water dripped off them, Sansa’s tunic clung to her. He could see all the curves of her body. Jon’s breath grew shallow.

“Let’s go,” he said roughly. 

They moved hastily through the trees, towards home. “Get in,” he nodded, indicating their shelter. Jon quickly grabbed their food and and collected the salt before following after. He would have to check the fire to keep it going as best as he was able. 

Jon set the food and salt down in the far corner, away from them. As he’d hoped, the inside was still dry, the rain had yet to penetrate through the layers of branches and leaves. There was no way to be sure how long it would last though. “I brought our food, no telling how long it will rain.”

He pulled the wet strands of hair away from his face, suddenly noticing  Sansa. She sat, her knees crossed, wet clothes still clinging to her. “Is something wrong?” 

She sat directly on their bed of pine needles, away from the silk blanket she’d once made for them. Sansa nodded her head, staying quiet. 

“You can’t stay in those, you’ll make yourself sick.” That terrified him, Jon did not know what he would do if Sansa took ill. 

He unlaced his own skirts, pulling them off. After considering, he tossed them in the rain. Sansa followed his movements before lifting her tunic off her shoulders. He grabbed it from her, tossing it away as well. There was no room to lay their garments out to dry. He began to look for dry clothing.

“Jon.”

“Where did you put our clothes?” It was a small space, she could not have hidden them away.

“Did you forget? We washed yesterday. Everything we have is outside. It was still damp when I looked this morning.” A blush grew on her cheeks and down her neck as she spoke. 

He stilled. “I had forgotten.” Jon crawled towards her. “Are you cold?” Sansa had gooseflesh along her shoulders and arms. 

He grabbed her, pulling her into his embrace so her back lay against him. There was nothing to be done until the rain stopped. Even then, they would have nothing to wear. 

“I’m not cold.” She turned to face him. 

“Nor am I.” He attempted to comb her hair with his fingers but it made no difference, it hung thick and heavy from the rain. 

Jon touched the favor she had given him. He had no right but he no longer cared. 

Their lips met, soft at first as they explored each other. He could feel Sansa’s hands on his chest, stroking down his belly and then up his sides to his neck. He shivered from the pleasure of her touch. 

He tilted Sansa’s head back, littering her neck with soft kisses, her sighs managing to stir him on. He pulled away, needing to look at her. “Are you certain?”

“I am with you,” she murmured against his skin. He could feel the warmth of her breath against his lips. 

He kissed her again as they moved ever so slightly to lay against their blanket. Jon lowered her down as gently as he could. 

“Do you know how to do it?” She asked him

Jon was not sure what answer to give, he’d not been prepared for such a question. Theon had told him many tales of his conquests and he’d seen the horses together in the stables. “Aye, I know how.”

He kissed her once more, pulling away to see Sansa give him the sweetest of smiles.

Jon reached down to guide himself inside of her. She was wet and slick for him. No touch had ever felt so good.

Sansa’s voice suddenly hitched.

He stilled his movements. “Did I hurt you?”

Her eyes opened. “Go slow, you have not hurt me.”

He did as asked, easing himself in a little further. It was a sweet torture, she felt warm and tight against him. Sansa’s arms came around his shoulders, pulling him hard against her. Jon burrowed into her neck, his nose in the thick locks of her still damp hair.

He moved against her, keeping a slow pace as she wanted. He wanted more, so much more. “Sansa?”

“I’m not hurt.” He could hear the tightness in her voice though, she was trying to hide her pain from him.

He showered kisses on her neck as she pulled him even closer. Jon went faster and then suddenly stilled, grunting as he spilled. He had not expected to finish as he did.

He lay against her, the only sound was their breathing and the nearby rain. Jon kissed her again, smiling as he realized she still held him in a tight embrace. “Sansa?”

“If you ask me if I’m in pain, I’ll kick you.”

He pulled off of her to lay on his side, bringing her close to him so her head rested on his arm. Jon pulled her hair back, studying her for any sign of discomfort but could see none. “It’s only the first time that it hurts.”

She moved closer to him, sighing contently. “I know some things too, Jon Snow.”

It struck him, there was nothing for them to do while it rained. Even after it stopped, they had nothing dry. He would need to check the fire soon, see if there was any chance of stopping it from going out. 

“Aye, more than I ever did.” 

He’d fallen in love with her and now he’d taken her maidenhead but Jon could not bring himself to regret it. He hoped Sansa never had cause to do so. She could not guess at the future any more than he could. 

He leaned over to kiss her once more. 

 

 

 


	14. Chapter 14

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Not a huge amount of plot in this chapter. So much sweetness, you'll get a tooth ache.

Sansa remembered talking in whispers with Jeyne Poole as they had fantasized over their wedding nights. She had imagined weeping through the agony of her husband’s attentions or stoically enduring his touch as a proper wife would in the marital bed. Those were the fears of a young girl though. Jon’s touches had been sweet ones to enjoy.  The sting and ache still remained but it was not the agony she had once feared. Sansa knew it to be a good ache. 

“How long do you think it will rain?”

He chuckled. “I wouldn’t know. I hope for quite some time if it means I can leer at you.”

Sansa sat up, peering down at him. She stroked the hair low on his belly, tracing the path it created.  “You can not leer with closed eyes.”

His lids shot open and a sly grin came on him. His eyes slowly moved over her body. 

She pretended outrage. “That’s not proper.”

He drew himself up. “Positively indecent of me.” He cupped her cheek with one hand, his thumb stroking against her skin. “I want to look at the fire, see if it can be kept going.”

She nodded. “Be quick.”

Sansa watched Jon leave, understanding his worry. She had no desire to spend another night in darkness as they had the one time they’d hidden away in their mountain cave. The fire was their light and formed the center of their home. Even during the darkest hours, the glow of hot coals lent a soft glow for them. 

She looked between her legs. Sansa had felt the wetness earlier but had not wanted to draw Jon’s attention. As suspected, a few drops of blood had dried on her skin. It was not much, less than her moon blood but if Jon saw, he would feel guilt over it and she did not want that. 

“Fire is out.”

“We have endured worse,” she said, hoping to reassure him. It was then Sansa saw one of the small pieces of cloth she used for her moon blood hidden in his fisted hand. She looked at him, wondering.

Jon sat down close to her, on the pine needles rather than their silken blanket. Rain once again covered him, drops slowly fell off, landing on the floor below. He handed her the cloth before wiping at his arms and chest. “I noticed some blood on me. I brought this for you,” he said in answer to her unspoken question.

She turned away from him, wiping away the traces of what they had done together.

“Sansa, do you regret what we did?”

Sansa faced him, hearing the uncertainty in his voice. She clasped one of his hands between hers, gently squeezing. She knew Jon thought she worried too little over their problems, did not understand the challenges they faced. That was not right, Sansa understood them very well. Sansa did not worry because their strength came from each other. 

‘I will never regret it,” she answered. “Once, I thought we were like Aemon and Naerys but that is not us. If we had gone to King’s Landing, our story would have been a tragic one. Or, I could compare us to Prince Duncan and his Jenny but that would not be right.”

“I should hope not, they died.”

She sighed. “They lived first.” Sansa moved closer to him. “The prince gave up his crown for love. I am not giving up anything. We are making our choices together, there is a difference.”

Jon did not give any answer, merely studying her in silence. His face was solemn but she knew of the good sweet heart that lay hidden underneath. “I thought you loved those songs.”

“I do, but they are songs, not our life. We are creating our story together, it can be whatever we wish. How could either of us ever regret making that choice?”

“I suppose we can’t.”

Sansa laid down, lifting up and spreading her hair so it fanned out behind her. Jon would understand eventually. He wished to be as wise and good and honorable as her father. Jon Snow was exactly the sort of man he would wish for Sansa. She could afford patience.  

She listened to the rain outside as it fell, somewhat lighter than it had been but still in a steady patter of drops against the tree limbs outside. The sounds were different but they made her think of the ocean waves, they used to sing her to sleep at night and wake her in the morning. Sansa dearly wished they could live on the beach once more. “The rain will stop soon.”

Jon rested his head on her breasts, gazing up at her through half-lidded eyes. “How would you be knowing that?”

“It told me.” She began stroking his hair, pulling the wet strands back behind his ears. 

“My hair is still wet.”

“So is mine. We will dry.”

He did not answer but a comical expression came on him and a quiet laugh spilled out.

“Do I amuse you?” 

“I thought you might like it if we formed a new House, this is our island as you often remind us.”

She gave him a gentle smile, still curious as to what he meant. “Ours and no others.”

He kissed the top of her breast then. “Then I remembered, we live in a hovel, not a house.”

She nodded sagely. “A stupid hovel.”

“It’s not stupid, it’s ours.”

“Hovel Snow.”

Jon drew himself so she lay between his arms and legs. “Now that’s stupid. “

Sansa reached up, letting the tips of her fingers glide along his chest She loved the feel of his soft skin mixed with the silken curls. “I like Jon and Sansa well enough.”

The rain stopped and the quiet surrounded them. Up above, the distant twilling of a bird could be heard. The only other sounds were the draw of their breath and the gentle rustle of their bodies against the silken blanket. Sansa thought of the ocean waves again.

Jon noticed as well. “You are a woods witch, gifted with prophecy.” 

“The rain told me, just as I said.”

His eyes changed, twin pools of black, and his nose flared as he took a deep intake of breath. Sansa could feel his manhood, grown hard where it rested against her leg. She could glimpse it, hidden amongst the shadows created between their bodies. Once, Sansa had imagined that part of a man to be an ugly thing, a bulbous head sticking out from their bodies. Jon was not like that at all, he was beautiful everywhere. 

Another bird sang, this time it was a sorrowful tune. 

“Jon, we should move,” she whispered.

He pulled himself up to slide further onto the blanket, not understanding her meaning. He began to kiss her neck as soon as she followed. “Is that better?” he breathed against her skin.

She put her arms around his neck, letting her fingers scratch at the curls that lay along his neck. “No, our home. I want to be by the ocean again. Could we do that?”

His kisses stopped. “It’s not safe.”

“If we found someplace that was safe, then would you consider it?”

“Aye, I would consider it.” There was an edge of impatience to his voice. 

She pulled him close so he could kiss her again. She could feel his hands grazing across her breasts and moving lower. 

“Sansa,” he rasped. She loved to hear him speak her name in such a way.

In answer, she spread her legs further apart. He entered her with a much greater speed than the first time. Her voice hitched as her head fall back, exposing her neck to him. 

Jon stilled. “Are you hurting?”

There was still a pinch but it was not like the first time. She lightly kicked him. “I did warn you.”

He chuckled before groaning, “So you did.”

Sansa wrapped herself around his body, silently willing him to continue. It made no matter how many times they did this, she did not think they would ever be close enough. “I love you, Jon Snow.”

The admittance only stirred him on. 

A sennight or so later, found her following Jon as they wandered through the trees, the white sands of the beach only a short distance away. They had begun these excursions a few days past, at Jon’s insistence. He’d explained if they were to move, he needed to find a location that would prove safe enough. Sansa thought it to be an awfully dull and pointless affair. 

She sat on a small patch of grass, slowly peeling one of the bright green blades while he stared at one of the pine trees, his hand resting against it. As near as Sansa could tell, it looked to be much the same as the hundreds and hundreds of pines that grew on their island.

Sansa let out a great sigh. “Jon, I have a great secret to share with you,” she told him, deliberately placing as much worry and fear into her voice as she could. 

He spun abruptly, facing her, his expression grave. She almost felt guilty. “What’s wrong?” He rushed to her side to sit next to her, pulling her hand into his. 

“I have a confession to make.”  She gave what she hoped was an expression of worry and shame. “Recently, I have discovered, our island, it’s all the same. We are surrounded by a beach, and in middle are trees, lots of them. Dozens and dozens. It’s all exactly the same.”

He dropped her hand. “You have missed your calling as a court fool.”

Sansa fell back, no longer able to contain her laughter. She felt quite proud of her jape.

“Are you done?” He asked after a great while. “I have news for you as well,” he added, seeing her wipe the tears from her eyes.

She glared at him suspiciously, sensing a trick. “What news would that be?”

“You wished to move closer to the beach, will this do?”

Sansa let out a squeal of delight, falling into his arms. “We can move today.”

He pulled away from her. “Not so soon. First, you will need to learn a bit of stone masonry.”

She stared dumbly at him, confused. “Stone masonry?”

His face grew solemn as it sometimes did. “Yes. I expect you to build me a fine castle. I’ll want both an outer wall and an inner wall, two gates, three towers, stables, a kennel, and a maesters’s turret. And a library.”

“I don’t know how,” she wailed. 

“Best start practicing. As lord of this island, I expect something quite grand to reflect my status.”

She wrinkled her nose at him. “Your status? A mud pen it is then.”

He moved to sit between her legs. “Would you consider a house instead?”

“A house?”

“Complete with a roof and walls.” He indicated the pine he’d previously been touching. “That tree is going to help us.”

“Do you mean it?”

“Aye, I’m very serious, wish I had thought of it earlier. It will take some time but we can do it.”

She began to wipe the tears from her eyes once more. Jon proved what she had already known, their strength was in each other. He worried over what could happen if they ever left but they belonged together, here.

“I thought you would be pleased.” He looked dejected.

“I am more pleased than any words I could give you,” she explained. 

Jon’s breath quickened and his expression changed. The previous night, Sansa had asked him how often men liked to lay with women. He’d told her as often as the women let them. She supposed that was proving true. He drew himself up so he rested on his knees. She cupped his cheeks, pulling him close for a kiss. Sansa could still taste the faint traces of fish on him.

“I should warn you, I still expect those stone walls.”

“Best start practicing then.” Their lips were so close, their breath mixed as they spoke. 

Jon began pulling at the bottom of her gown. “It’s a great bit of luck our clothes are so easily removed.”

She slid it off her shoulders and began to help him with the ties of his skirt. “I’ll make an ugly sack to put on.”

He lay over her, resting on his arms. “We lack the materials. Besides, I would forbid you from wearing it.”

She pretended to be angry. “I would not allow you to forbid me.”

His brow furrowed, but it was an act. Jon could not hide the smirk growing on him. “You could not stop me.” 

He kissed each of her nipples, wet open kisses. The wind blew against the dampness of her skin, making her nipples harden. Sansa shivered in pleasure. 

Jon slid down her body, leaving a trail of kisses as he went. All Sansa could see of him was his brow and eyes as he peeked up at her from between her legs. “I love to look on you. I suspect I know this part of your body even better than you do. “ He kissed her mound and moved lower. “I know the exact shade of pink here and how soft you feel.” 

Sansa felt a sweet warmth against her center as his tongue licked at her. Her body arched up in surprise. “Jon, what are you--- oh. Oh. OHHHH.” He repeated the motion once more, no touch had ever felt this good. Her breathing grew labored as Jon began to concentrate on a sweet spot, his tongue and lips gently sucking. It felt as if he was worshipping her. The tension Sansa had experienced before grew on her once more, moans overtook her as she twined her fingers into his hair. Sansa felt the muscles in her stomach and so much lower stiffened in pleasure. She let out a cry as her eyes closed and she saw a bright light. Sansa felt as if she was swimming in a great pool of bliss. She did not know what Jon had just did but she dearly hoped he would do so again. 

Eventually, the energy returned so she could open her eyes once more. Jon was above her, his body lightly silhouetted from the sun. “What did you do?”

“I wanted to know what you would taste like,” he rasped. 

She tried to smile but could not yet do so, she was still lost. “What do I taste like?”

“Like Sansa.” He slid inside her. This time, there was not the abrupt shock as he entered her, she felt only the delicious thrill of their bodies joining together. 

Sansa spread her thighs further in welcome and began to move with him in rhythm. Jon grabbed her neck, moving so he could suck at the place under her lobe. She shivered, it had never been like this. “Jon,” she moaned. 

He only grunted in answer before thrusting in earnest as he quickened his pace. Distantly, Sansa realized he had been holding himself back before in consideration of her. She slid her hands down his back, cupping his hips. That encouraged him. Jon’s face began to turn a deep red and his expression grew pained. He was losing himself, his movements growing faster and faster, his rhythm gone. Then, he thrust with a fierceness he had never displayed before and stilled, spilling into her. Sansa wrapped her limbs about him, to gather him close. 

Jon tried to move away from her but she did not let him. “Not yet.”

“Someday, we will live in a castle as I described, I swear it.” 

Sansa did not want that. She would rather have a home they built together than anything the seven kingdoms could offer. “I only want our house. And you and me. That is all I want.”

He kissed her. 

  
  
  
  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I was looking at this mood board by sansafeels (gayforsansastark on tumblr) while writing this chapter.  
> [http://kittykatknits.tumblr.com/post/161133796427/gayforsansastark-kittykatknits-fic-rec ](http://kittykatknits.tumblr.com/post/161133796427/gayforsansastark-kittykatknits-fic-rec)


	15. Chapter 15

It had been a dark time for House Stark in the days after Theon’s disappearance. His lord father had been stricken with grief over the loss of his childhood friend and another eerie silence settled over Winterfell. His parents turned to each other as they had over the loss of Sansa and Jon.

Robb never knew what they spoke of behind the closed door of his father’s chambers, but he often wondered and dreaded that he knew the answer. His lord father’s hair had begun to turn grey and there was a tired, aged look slowly creeping onto his countenance. Catelyn continued all of her responsibilities as the wife of a Lord Paramount, yet his father closely watched over.

Once, he had asked his father why he told their northern bannerman he had been the one to release Theon Greyjoy. His father had grown stern. “She is your mother. The decision was my own and that is all you need to know.” Robb had never spoken Theon’s name since.

Almost four moons to the day after that exchange, ravens arrived from the Stony Shore, Tallhart’s Square, and north of Sea Dragon Point, warning of Ironborn raids and pleading for help from Winterfell.

His father had left, refusing to allow others to fight in his place which meant Robb ruled as the Stark in Winterfell. He had begun to think winter was truly coming for House Stark but he was wrong.

It was during this time that another raven appeared out of the sky, the unbroken Lannister seal filled him with a sick dread.  It was from the new king, Joffrey Baratheon demanding that a Stark journey south to pledge him fealty. It was the next day, when a command came from Dragonstone, that Robb felt certain winter had come for his family. He was wrong once more.

*****

“Don’t move.”

“I’m not moving.”

“Both hands, wrap them like this.” Jon moved her hands, placing them further apart on the two narrow limbs of wood. “Our first knot.” He pulled the rope they had fashioned from dried cattails.

“Will it hold, do you think?” Sansa began to pull at the knot, testing his work.

“It will with the pitch on it.” Over a fortnight had passed since the day Jon remembered what Jory had once told him about pine pitch. The collection process had been a slow one, without an ax to offer any sort of aid. The sap mixed with charcoal had created a thick substance that hardened when dry, forming a tight seal. “It worked on our shoes. Next corner.”

Sansa had applied the mix to the soles of their shoes as a bit of chance but it worked. The dried leaves no longer dampened from the earth as they walked about, they were sturdier as well.

“We have a square. A very big square.” Sansa spoke plain yet Jon did not miss the slight twist of her lip.

He knew she was frustrated with the slow pace of their progress even though she had not told him, by either word or deed. The use of cattails for the roof would hurry the process some but they only grew so quickly. They were also limited by the wood they collected on the ground, reserving those most suitable for the walls and giving the rest to the fire.

“A roof soon enough. I’ll collect the pitch.” Using a pair of rabbit furs, Jon picked up a rock that lay near the fire and brought it to Sansa. “We need to be quick about it.”

“I’m aware, Jon.” Sansa sighed in frustration.

He ignored it, handing her a walnut twig, the outer bark removed. They worked together, soaking each of the four corners in the thick tar-like substance. The next day, the frame would be turned over and the process repeated once more. Then, the laborious task of weaving all the cattails would begin. Sansa had given him lessons but the difference in quality between their work was easy to discern.

“Is that all? It was not so difficult.” Sansa grasped his hand, her thumb rubbing the inside of his palm.

Jon had other worries. “Did you use all the pitch?”

She looked at him in confusion. “It was only a little.”

He nodded, considering. Jon had used a knife to cut the dried sap from a number of trees and they had already used most of it. As he looked at the frame they had begun, a sinking feeling came over him as he realized how much they would truly need. It would take several moons to gather it all. “Tomorrow, after we put the rest on, we need to gather every bit of sap on this island before we continue further, the both of us. It will go quicker that way.”

“You mean for us to visit every tree.” Sansa drew away, picking up the now emptied strip of bark they had been using. “We don’t have enough, do we? It will take days, Jon.”

“It will.” It would take longer, they would need to repeat the process several times. Without an ax or ladder, they could only gather so much at once. Jon did not want to tell her that just yet. “We need more cattails, this gives them a chance to grow.”

Sansa’s lips drew into a flat smile. “Then that is what we will do. Shall we have supper?” Jon did not miss the disappointment in her voice.

“I’m sorry.”

“For building me a home when I had given up?” Sansa pulled, dragging him towards the fire. “Sit,” she ordered.

Jon did as told, resting against the old log they used, his legs splayed out in front of him. He kept quiet, watching Sansa prepare their meal. She hummed to herself, whether to keep up her spirits or his, he did not know. They ate together in silence, the same fish they ate at every meal, along with boiled greens and apples baked by the fire. Jon did not want to risk hunting again so soon.

“Some day, when we have our own castle back in the north, I will make eating fish a crime, a very grave crime. Outlawing fish, that will be my first act as lord.” Jon looked at the remains of their foods, the bones picked out and laying on another strip of tree bark.

Sansa moved, laying down with her head coming to rest across his lap. He began to run his fingers through it, separating out the strands. “What will be your second?”

Jon thought on it. “Hovels. None of our small folk will have hovels.”

“You will make a great lord.”

He would not. Either they would spend the remainder of their days on this island, forgotten by the world or they would be found and forced to return to the north. Jon would get sent to the wall. “A very great lord.” It was Robb who was meant to be a great lord, not him. “I miss Robb,” he blurted out.

Sansa sat up to face him, her expression blank. She avoided this topic. “As do I,” she said carefully.

“Arya too. I think she would be impressed with us.” Jon missed her even more than Robb. She would envy their adventures. He could imagine her gutting fish with him and laughing over it.

“With you. Arya never cared for me.” She sounded petulant.

“You’re wrong, she loved you, Sansa.” He should never have spoken.

“She was jealous of me.”

“Yes, but not like you think. Arya once asked me if she was a bastard too, did you know that?” Jon was well aware of what Sansa once thought of him.

“No.” He could see her eyes glisten from unshed tears in the fire light. “I’m sorry if I ever hurt you.”

Jon moved her so she sat astride him. “You never did.” She had not always considered her actions when they were young, but he had never seen her be deliberately cruel. Even so, the spoiled girl he knew had disappeared on this island. “She’d be proud, all of them would, I know it.”

“Robb would be proud of you. Did I ever tell you his final words to me were to trust you?”

He suspected Robb had not intended him to take his little sister’s maidenhead. “I know now.” He slid his hands up the smooth skin of her thighs and felt himself growing hard. “We should retire.”

Sansa stuck her tongue out at him. Jon went to bite it but she drew away, squealing. “Clean first.”

They either burned or buried their wastes before cleaning their teeth and taking a final sip of water.

“Did you forget the lantern?” Pitch could burn, they had been putting a small amount with a bit of moss on an indented rock for the past several days.

Sansa took the rock from his hands, placing it where it had lain by the fire. “I did not forget. We have only had the fire light for so long, a few more days will matter little.”

“You wish to save it for the house.” A few drops would hardly make a difference but he kept silent.

“Of course. Don’t you?”

Jon did not answer, kicking some ash over the fire to lessen the flames. He followed Sansa to bed to find her sitting, legs crossed and waiting for him. They were in shadows but the cream tunic she wore illuminated her body. Her hair looked almost black but every so often, a bit of red would appear. He began tugging at her clothing.

She pulled away. “My hair, I need to brush it.”

“It’s lovely.” Jon did not need to see her to know she rolled her eyes at that.

Sansa moved away, taking her brush and one of her ties from the nearby basket they kept by the bed. He did not like that. “You don’t need to braid it.” He snatched the tie from her hands, watching her impatiently when he realized. “It’s deliberate” he gasped.

She merely giggled as he grabbed the brush, tossing it into the basket. “I do not follow, ser,” she teased.

“I rather think you do.” Jon began tugging at her tunic once more.

They undressed before he snatched her close, tilting her head back to kiss along her jaw line. He could feel the tips of her fingers lightly skimming along his chest and up his shoulders. They slowly laid down on the bed until he rested on his arms, cradled between her legs. Robb may have told Sansa to trust him, but Robb was far away in the north. Their world was only them, together.

It took them five days to scour the island, gathering a great pile of dried sap but Jon knew it would not be enough, he needed an ax.

“Our fifth knot.” Sansa rubbed at his shoulders in her excitement.

“Are you going to count them all?” Jon pulled tight. “Check the corners, see if  they held.” Her grin was answer enough, his idea was going to work. “Shall we build a roof?”

Sansa kissed him first.

Two moons later, their house was not yet done. Pieces were made but it could not be brought together.

“You are quiet this morning.”

Jon focused on her. “I was trying to come up with a way to make a ladder.”

“I could stand on your back.”

He laughed. “Use me as a footstool? We would look ridiculous.”

She gave him a mischievous smile. “No, you would look ridiculous.” Her smile turned to a grimace. “The taste of fish makes me want to sick up.” They still ate fish at every meal, it had been over three moons since he picked up all the traps.

That worried him, they was nothing to be done if either of them became ill. “Are you sick?”

“No.” She clasped his hand, drawing it close to her. “I took a bite and my stomach did not care for it. I am not ill, Jon.”

“I’ll start looking for eggs again, it has been a while. Crabs too.” He could not set the traps this soon. Jon looked up in the trees, there were animals that never set food on the ground. “Or, I could hunt birds if we could figure out how. I’ve only ever used a bow.” Theon was better at it than he’d ever been too.

“Not the pretty ones. Or the ones that sing.”

He laughed. “Aye, the ugly, quiet ones only.”

“Do not mock me.” Her tone implied she rather enjoyed it. “We will find a way, we always do.”

He believed her.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is a bit shorter than intended but writing time was so limited this past week I decided to go ahead and post rather than wait another day.
> 
> Sansafeels (here on ao3) put together a collection of gorgeous paintings that give me a ton of Stranded feels. Come look:  
> <http://kittykatknits.tumblr.com/post/163172377647/gayforsansastark-artssansa-starkfanfic-some>


	16. Chapter 16

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For Janina, Vivi, and Jeanette: A bite.

“Your doublet no longer fits.” She had cut the sleeves out some time ago to reuse the fabric for other needs. Now, the garment scarcely covered her thighs.

“Wear your name day dress. It suits you.” Jon lay back against the log, watching as she readied herself. He wore the same skirts he always did, they were baring much of his thigh now too.

“I’ll find another use for it.” She could make something for Jon or save the material until they had a greater need for it. Sansa pulled it off, folding and placing it away with the rest of her saved fabric scraps before pulling on one of the two tunics left to her, cinching it with her make-shift belt.

“How many braids today?” He spread his legs for her to sit.

“Just the one,” she said, handing him a tie.

Sansa felt his fingers in his hair, weaving the strands together and pulling every so often. “You could leave it down.” Jon pulled the braid to her side before delivering an open mouthed kiss on her neck. “I wouldn’t mind.”

“It will be in the way, this is easier.”

Jon pulled one of their saddle bags over his shoulder before taking her hand in his. Together, they set off along the beach, still hidden by the trees at Jon’s insistence. There was nothing to be done for their new house, it would take time until they could gather more materials, so they would be spending the day collecting walnuts and laying Jon’s new crab traps.

“How does it work?”

“I whistle a tune and they follow me out of the ocean. Come on, wait here.” He led her to a thin pine where the sandy beach met the forest. “This won’t take long.”

Sansa rested by the base of the tree and began playing with the sparse blades of thick grass that grew around her as she watched Jon work. They had built the traps together over the past sennight, Jon had stowed them away the previous day. She grimaced as he pulled out the raw meat and tied it to the line before walking along the boulders and out into the water. He was to far for her to see what he did next.

“It didn’t work, I’ll need you to sing one of your pretty songs for me. We can start with _The Dornishman’s Wife_ and _The Lusty Lad_ after.” He rested on his haunches, giving her a sly smile. “Be quick about it, we have more to do.”

“I refuse.” She was horrified.

“I suppose we’ll starve.” He stood pulling her to her feet before taking her arm once more. “I was looking forward to a bit of crab meat for dinner.”

“It is a great pity.”

They wandered amongst the trees in silence, each lost in their thoughts. Spying a small clump of golden moon flowers, Sansa stopped to pick two of them up.

“Are you going to tuck them behind your ear?”

Sansa arched her brow. “No, yours.” Before Jon could react, she did just that. “The color suits you.”

He slowly blinked, trying to contain his laughter. “Do you expect me to wear them?”

“Yes, you look pretty.”

Jon only nodded. “Shall we go then?”

“You won’t take them off?” She asked, surprised.

“I don’t mind.” He dropped her hand, stepping away. “Do you hear that?” Jon sprinted down the beach without a further word.

Sansa sighed and began to walk calmly after, she knew what drew him. “Will you torture them first or grant them the mercy of a quick death?”

“See that one there, it’s next.” He pointed towards one of the geese. She could not tell the difference between any of them.

She crossed her arms. “You will not kill any of the babies.” Sansa thought they were the sweetest creatures, little bundles of soft yellow and grey feathers.

“That’s obvious enough, I’ll let them grow bigger first,” he said flatly.

Sansa watched the goslings, five of them in total, follow along behind their mother as she moved into the trees ahead of them. “Do you think we could take one for a pet? The babies are so pretty.”

Jon looked at her as if she’d sprouted a second head. “Why would you suggest that? No, we can’t take one for a pet! He practically shoved her forward, away from the geese. “I won’t have one of those vile creatures living where we sleep.”

Sansa let herself be dragged along as Jon explained all the reasons why she couldn’t have one of the babies. “Jon, you are being unkind.” She stiffened, refusing to move. “It was a passing fancy, that was all.”

He looked contrite. “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t apologize, tell me you won’t kill them.”

“I won’t kill the babies. Only the ugly ones.” He smiled, reminding her of the jape he’d made some days before.

She rolled her eyes at him and offered up her hand. Jon took it, pulling her towards him and kissing the sensitive spot by her lobe.

He dropped their bag on the ground near the tree. “I’ll start gathering on the other side.”

Sansa began picking up walnuts, two or three at a time as Jon returned every so often with a handful to drop in the bag. She rubbed at her palms, they were beginning to stain. “We have enough,” she called out but did not receive an answer. “Jon?” She walked around the tree but did not see him.

“I’m up here.” Jon stood on one of the thick limbs that grew just above her chest. “Be quiet.”

“Why? What are you looking at?”

He jumped down before putting a finger over his lips to indicate silence. “Look over there,” he said, nodding towards her left.

“I don’t know what I should be looking at,” she whispered.

“That dead tree, see the branches. I don’t recognize the birds.”

Sansa looked in the direction he indicated. It was a small tree with a dozen or so branches jutting out. “Why does it matter?”

He turned his attention away to gaze at her. “Meat. I’m coming back here tomorrow to study them.”

Sansa thought that sounded rather dull. “Shall we go? I want to visit the whispering waters and wash.” She grabbed one of his hands to inspect the palm. “You didn’t get stained at all, that’s not fair.”

“I was busy hunting.”

“You were standing on a tree limb.” She gave him a mischievous grin. “Race you to the water.”

She began to run, laughing as Jon called out behind her.

He stared at her quickly disappearing figure before picking up their now filled bag and chased after, yelling out her name. All he got for an answer was her laughter carrying on the wind.

Jon drew up as he spied her at the edge of the water, her gown already off as she waited for him. He quickly grew hard. “You left me.”

“I did all the work. Look at my hands.” She raised them, even from a distance he could see the brown stain. Sansa stepped backwards, into the water. “Come on.”

He threw the bag down and pulled his skirt off before running into the water after her. “That was ill done, my lady.”

Sansa’s eyes grew big, challenging him, as she splashed water in his face. He pulled his dripping hair back. “Was that a challenge?”

“Prepare to lose.” She began to swim.

He swam after, grabbing her by the waist. “Prepare to lose,” he whispered in her ear before letting go. He turned away,  pulling himself up onto a rock when he felt a sharp pain.

Jon lost his balance and fell into the water with a loud splash before coming back up. Sansa looked at him proudly, wearing a self-satisfied grin. “Did you bite me?” He bent his head, trying to see the teeth marks low on his hip. “It will leave a mark.”

“It will.” She still wore the braid he’d put in that morning. Bound together and wet, her hair looked a much darker shade than usual.

He did not answer, choosing to undo the tie and pull the wet locks apart so they stuck to her back. “We’re clean enough,” he rasped. Jon began licking the water off one breast, down to her nipple where he began to suck, grinning to himself when he heard the hitch of her breath.

“Jon,” she breathed.

He ignored her, shifting his focus to her other breast, lathing her with his tongue. Sansa repeated his name once more.

“What is it?” he asked, between kisses along her neck.

“We’re clean.”

He pulled away, understanding her meaning. “Very much so.” His breathing had grown heavy.

Jon led her out of the water, towards the soft patch of grass they typically rested upon. Sansa wrapped an arm around his neck, pulling at him to lay down with her. He obliged, kissing her as they did so. “Spread your legs for me,” he whispered against her lips.

He gently scraped her neck with his teeth before kissing her breasts and down her belly.

“Hurry,” she sighed, pushing on his shoulders.

“My greedy girl,” he hummed against her center before shoving her thighs further apart to lick and kiss at her. Jon had enjoyed the process of discovering her body, learning the ways she liked to be touched most. He put the knowledge to use now, gently licking before applying pressure with the flat of his tongue, letting his fingers stroke at her. He kept at it, until she screamed and her back arched. Jon drew back then, littering kisses along her mound and thighs before starting once more, keeping at it until he felt Sansa pushing at his shoulders.

He wiped his mouth and moved up her body. They met each other’s eyes, sharing a lover’s smile. “I love doing that. I get to see the pretty pink skin between your legs grow wet when I lick at you.” He kissed the tip of her nose. “Your curls are an even brighter red, like fire.”

“Jon, lay back,” she murmured as she began pushing against his chest. Her neck and cheeks were flushed from arousal. He began kissing her.

“Jon.”

“What?” It was a struggle to understand her.

“Lay back, I want to try something.” She shoved at him again

He whimpered but did as she asked. Sansa moved quickly, sitting astride his hips. Jon could hear his thundering heartbeat as he realized her intention. She raised her hips before impaling herself with his cock. A grunt of pleasure escaped his body. Sansa did an experimental roll against him before her head tilted back, giving Jon the most lovely view on all of the island.

Her hips began to move against him experimentally, she was unsure of herself. They had never done this before. Jon was not sure what to say. “You have the most delicious teats I’ve ever seen,” he blurted out.

“They’re the only ones you’ve seen.”

“Still delicious.” His eyes fell back as his hands settled on her hips. “Fuck,” he bit out. Jon shot a look at Sansa but she didn’t seem to notice. He never swore in her presence. He began to guide her movements as he thrust up into her.

“Faster...like that…” she cried out.

Jon obliged, pulling her against him as their bodies met over and over in a fierce rhythm. He slammed into her and roared, spilling his seed. Sansa fell onto him, a boneless mass. He put his arms around her, stroking her still damp hair where it lay down her back.

“Did you like that?” He could hear the uncertainty in her voice.

He did not know how to answer, to say he liked it felt a gross understatement. “You make me love you more every day.”

“You swore.”

He winced. “I’d hoped you wouldn’t notice. I’m sorry.”

Sansa looked up at him, steeling herself to answer. “I didn’t mind, I even liked it.” She spoke as if sharing a great confession.

“Gods, Sansa” He grabbed her about the waist, turning them so he lay above her. “I’ll say it again.” He kissed her.

Several days later, Jon sat by the fire, enjoying the delicious taste of goose meat. “I’m enjoying every bite.” He licked his lips and fingers before ripping off another piece.

Sansa merely stared at him in disgust. “Do you need to take so much joy in it?”

“This one bit me. Twice.” He ripped off another piece of meat and began to chew.

She merely picked at hers before shoving it away to nibble at a few blueberries.

“You need to eat. We have much to do today.” They were planning to sweep through the island again to collect more sap. No progress had been made on their house for the past fortnight.

“I don’t want it.” She took a small bite from the goose meat before setting it down once more.

“You don’t look well. Are you sick?”

Sansa didn’t answer, suddenly getting up to stumble away from him. He could hear her make retching sounds from behind a nearby sentinel. He grabbed the water skin before following after.

She did not acknowledge him, standing still with her head resting against the bark of the tree. “Drink this,” he ordered, placing the skin against her lips.

Sansa took a small sip. “I’m better now.”

“Are you ill? You did this yesterday morning too, maybe you should rest today.” Jon’s stomach tensed. He was not sure what to do if she took sick. In Winterfell, Old Nan or Maester Luwin took care of the family when needed.

She patted his cheek in reassurance. “I’m better.”

“Will you lay down for a little while? Even if only to appease me.” Jon hoped she was only a bit tired.

Sansa nodded her head. “Perhaps I am tired.” Her tone told him she didn’t believe it though. She crawled into their home to lay down.

Jon cleaned up, wrapping the remainder of their meat in dried seaweed. The joy he’d taken  over killing his enemy felt somewhat lessened.  He followed Sansa, coming to sit next to her. “How are you?”

“Let me rest for a bit and then we’ll go.” She smiled up at him. He could see love in her eyes.

Jon began to stroke the hair away from her face. As he did so, a feeling of terror began to grow over him. He felt a trickle of cold sweat fall down his back.

Sansa suddenly got up. “Is something wrong. You look..frightened.”

He struggled to keep his features blank before answering her. “No, merely thinking on what we need for the house next.” She did not believe him, he could tell. Inwardly, Jon began to try and remember the last time Sansa bled. He could not, he no longer followed the days as closely as he once did. “I need to put away the rest of our food,” he said before quickly escaping away, not waiting for her answer.

Outside, Jon drew a deep breath. His certainty was only growing, Sansa would either bare him a child on the dirt floor of a forgotten island or he would kill her. He heard her call his name. “I’ll be right back.”

Jon moved towards the remains of their old boat, peeling it back to uncover the contents inside. He drew out the sword Robb had given him, still enclosed in the sword belt and wrapped in leather, where it lay since they first arrived. His finger slid along the sharp edge, admiring Mikken’s work. His sword had never even been given the chance to enjoy the taste of blood.

Steel in hand, Jon returned to Sansa. She still lay in the same spot, her expression worried. He emptied the contents of her baskets and took them. “I’ll be back shortly.”

“Jon?” He could hear her worry.

Sansa sat up, watching Jon as he silently left her. She knew he was upset, even if she did not know the cause. There were times after they would argue when Jon would leave in a sulk. Always, he would return later as if nothing was amiss. This was different though, he’d been concerned for her and then something had gone horribly wrong.

She got up, returning to the fire, feeling suddenly famished. Sansa ate all of their blueberries and even some walnuts while she waited for Jon. There was no trace of him. She brushed her hair, choosing to leave it down the way he liked and went off in search of him.

Sansa followed in the direction he’d set off, hoping they would find each other. Soon, she could hear him, yells and grunts of frustration and anger. She followed the sounds until she came upon him. Jon was soaked in sweat, his hair matted against him. He was using his sword to hack into a pine tree, forming to her what looked like a series of arrow shapes. He’d already done the same to another.

“Jon?” She kept her distance with the sword in his hand. “What are you doing?”

He drew up, his body reeling from the sudden stop. He threw the sword down but did not answer her.

“You’ll ruin your sword. Can you tell me what’s wrong? You’re frightening me.” She’d seen Jon angry before, she’d been the cause of it many times but he’d never done anything like this.

“I’m building you a house, it’s all I know how to do. You have no pretty things, you even had to cut up your silk dress.”

He wasn’t speaking sense. “I have many pretty things, I’m surrounded by beauty every day.”

Jon fell back against the tree, falling to the ground. She approached him, sitting close so their knees and thighs touched before taking his hand. He turned it and kissed her palm.

“You’re not sick, you’re with child. Don’t you see?” His grey eyes darkened in pain as his lips drew flat. “I put a babe in you.”

“Oh,” she sighed before a pleased smile overtook her. “We’ll have a child together, Jon, us. We should be celebrating, not chopping at trees. Please don’t be angry.”

He grabbed her suddenly, pulling her into his lap before laying his head against her shoulder. “I already killed my mother. I don’t want to kill you too.”

  



	17. Chapter 17

Jon’s face was hidden where it rested against her shoulder. Sansa was not sure what to make of his words. “Do you intend to run me through with your sword?”

He drew himself up to meet her eyes before snorting. “It won’t be able to cut a leaf when I’m done.” Jon’s eyes were red from worry, his face and hair covered in small pieces of bark.

“Then it doesn’t seem likely to happen.” Sansa knew the source of his concern but she would not voice it if Jon would be doing so soon enough.

“You know what I meant. My mother was your age when she died. Do you know how many days it took her to die?” His voice was strained.

“Yes, I’ve heard the stories the same as you.” She drew her hand into his, grateful he did not pull away. “My mother bore five children and hers bore several as well.” Sansa’s grandmother lost a few children, but not from childbirth, she hoped Jon did not know that. “My fate will not be your mother’s, I promise you.” 

His head fell back against the tree as his eyes snapped shut. “You don’t know that.” 

“Yes, I do.”

“No, you don’t. Now, get up so I can finish.” Jon shoved at her, so quick Sansa almost fell as he pushed her next to him. “Move out of the way.”

Sansa drew herself up to watch Jon pick up the sword from where he’d thrown it. “Destroying your sword in anger will not help us.” She could feel her eyes begin to well up. Sansa always imagined this moment to be magical, instead the man she loved told her she would die. 

“Do you think I’m stupid, Sansa? I’m building a house.” He turned away, ignoring her. 

Sansa stood well away from him. “I don’t understand,” she called out but he did not answer. She wiped the wetness from her cheeks. Jon paid her no mind at all. He finished cutting up the second tree before taking her two baskets and tying them using the leather cords he kept for his traps. “Will you explain now?”

Jon used the length of his arm to wipe at his brow. It only spread the dirt and bark pieces further. “We need pitch, I used my sword to get it. Nothing left for us to do now but wait.” He sighed before coming to rest on his haunches, facing the pair of pine trees.

“You used your sword so we could finish.” Sansa could weep for him, she would not have allowed him to do it if she’d known. “You should not have done so.”

“It makes no difference, I never even got the chance to use it.” He sounded defeated.

She approached him, placing her hand on his shoulder, letting her thumb lightly brush his skin. “Will you speak to me now?”

He glanced at her hand before turning away to stare intently at the trees once more. Sansa frowned, coming to rest beside him and drawing up her knees. She waited but Jon stayed quiet. She was not certain how long they would need to sit besides baskets tied to trees. “Then we will stay here together.” Cautiously, Sansa pulled his hand into her own, letting their fingers intertwine. He did not pull away. 

Sansa felt along her belly but it was as flat as it’d always been. She no longer felt ill. “It’s possible you’re wrong, we can’t know for certain.”

“We should be so lucky.” He suddenly pulled away before standing up. Sansa realized with an ache that Jon was deliberately putting a physical distance between them. “I’m not wrong.”

“Would it be so bad? We could have a little girl with your lovely grey eyes and dark hair. Or maybe a boy if you’d like that better.” Sansa had dreamed of it more than once. If she gave him a girl, her name would be Lyanna. 

“It wouldn’t matter to me, you know that,” he said sincerely. Jon scratched at his beard, glancing at her every so often. “If you die, the child dies. There’s no nurse maid here, no goat’s milk. I’d lose you both.”

“You won’t.” Sansa knew that would never happen. She knew it.

He kept talking as if she’d never spoken. “We’ve gone to bed with empty bellies. Sansa, you’ve refused to hunt or even learn how. What would you do if something were to happen to me?”

“Nothing will happen to you.” She wished he would stop talking like this. “Can you not be even a little happy? We made a child together, you and I.” Sansa stopped, gathering her courage to ask the question she dreaded. “Do you not want it?” Her voice quivered.

Jon stopped short, his eyes boring into hers. Sansa did not at all like what she saw. “Not here, no. I wanted you even though I knew it was wrong so I told myself I’d enjoy it. I’d rut between your legs as often as you’d let me. We weren’t thinking, neither of us.”

“You’re being cruel.” Tears began to fall once more

“I’m being honest.” He picked up his sword. “I’ll do my best to take care of you, I’ll promise you that much.” He began to walk away from her, calling out that he was going to hunt just as he disappeared into the trees. 

Sansa sat where he’d left her, waiting and waiting, but Jon did not come back. Soon enough, she rose to return to their home but he was not there either. She wanted to crawl onto their bed and lose herself in tears and misery. Jon took something beautiful and made it ugly. She would not do that. Instead, Sansa went to go collect food, he would be hungry when he decided to come back to her. 

Soon enough, she returned with some fruit to last them both the remainder of the day. Sansa sat next to the fire to work on her current project but that only made her remember the promise Jon once shared with her. She could imagine it now, the two of them with a little girl that looked like Arya and a boy that looked like Robb. But, thinking on it all only made her heart ache. She picked up an apple and wandered towards the beach as an idea struck her.

*****

Jon expected to find Sansa waiting, a tongue lashing at the ready. He deserved one for what he’d said. Instead, all he found was a meal Sansa had readied him, along with one of her golden flowers laying next to it. But, that was not what struck him. 

“Fool,” he muttered to himself before laughing. Sansa was very predictable in some ways. He followed the trail of yellow petals, quickly realizing where it would lead. He emerged from the mix of pine and sentinels, the dirt and scattered grass beneath him giving way to dry sand. 

Sansa rested by the water’s edge, her loose hair picked up and tossed gently about by the wind. Jon quietly approached her, the sand helping to keep his presence hidden from her, at least until he drew close enough so his shadow appeared. She stilled, noticing him.

He sat next to her, crossing his legs. “That’s not Winterfell.” At least he did not think so, it contained only a single wall and two gates. She set down her handful of wet sand before turning her attention on him. Her eyes were red and swollen. Jon could not recall ever making her cry before. “Will you let me help you?”

“You want to help me build a sand castle? No.” She picked up more sand to finish the wall closest to her.

“You finished the windows.” Jon took some as well, rolling it into a ball. “I’m sorry.”

“You said many cruel things, which ones are you sorry for?” she asked curtly.

He deserved that. “All of it.”

She shook her head. “No, Jon. You made me something dirty. You made me feel unwanted.” Sansa’s gaze settled on him then. She made no effort to hide her pain from him. “I always wanted to be a mother, did you know that? I dreamed of this moment, my husband and I learning we would have a child. You took that from me.” 

Jon felt shame, his own fears meant he’d given no consideration to hers. “It wasn’t my intent. You have a knack for making your dreams mine, did you know that?”  

“No, your dreams were always the same as mine. I only help you to not think on your worries so often, there’s a difference. Move over.” Sansa pushed herself between him and one of the castle walls so her back faced him.

Jon took a lock of her hair, winding it around his finger before coming to sit beside her once more. “I don’t want a girl wth my hair and eyes.”

Her face fell. “You already told me that.”

“I’d rather she look like you, blue eyes and pretty auburn hair. She’ll sing for me, just like her mother does.” Sansa let a quiet sob escape before her tears fell. Jon wanted to embrace her but he wasn’t sure it would be welcome. Instead, he moved to the wall opposite her. “I’ll make the armory, a great big one.” Jon tried to remember the size of the armory in Winterfell before deciding to double it. He began to shape the wet sand into the building from his memory. “If something were to happen to you, Sansa, I could not bear it.” Jon did not know what he would do if forced to live alone on their island without her. Sansa spoke of them as a great love story but living the remainder of his days without her, there was nothing beautiful in that.

“Nothing will happen to me, I swear it. We are going to grow old together, I promise you. Our hair will turn grey and our faces will be all wrinkled.” Sansa spoke with confidence, in that way of hers that made him want to believe her. She stood up on her knees, looking at him in exasperation. “Your armory is half the size of the castle grounds. There’s no room for a library or the kitchens or even a courtyard. I want a great big courtyard.”

He nodded sheepishly. “Sorry, I can make it smaller.” He began to pull out handfuls of sand, shrinking the building size. He did not respond to the rest of what she told him, it would do neither of them any good. Jon’s fears would stay with him until she delivered their child and he held both of them in his arms. Even then, only some of them would disappear. “What are you making?”

“This will be the main tower where the family lives, and this,” she paused, pointing to the building next to it, “is for the rest of our household. The kitchen and brewery will be here, close to the great hall.” Sansa began forming the sand into a long, low building for the kitchens. “You think we are building a fantasy.” It was not a question.

Jon’s chest hurt as he took in the meaning of her question, noticing the two gates. “I wanted two walls and a third tower.”

“You can put the guard’s tower by the armory. We can put the library and maester’s turret by the stables.” Sansa surprised him then, grabbing at his hand so quickly the sand scraped on his skin. “Stop it.”

“I only pointed out the lack of a tower.”

“No, you think we can never have this.” She squeezed his hand tight as her expression grew pleading. “You believe my father will send you to the wall. Do you think he would banish me to the life of a septa as well? Jon, my father faced the wrath of his dearest friend to keep you safe. He brought you and your mother home to Winterfell. Robb loves you as a brother and my father loves you as a son. After all he lost, do you truly believe my father would separate our family? Or Robb, who only ever wanted his little sister to be happy?”

Jon was not sure how to respond. Instead, he began to build the guard’s tower next to the armory. He hoped Sansa was right, he wanted her to be. “They will be angry, Sansa. I’m the bastard son of a dead house and I went and put another bastard in you.” 

“Does that frighten you?”

He smiled then, the first time since he realized the source of her illness. “No, if it meant we were together, no.”

“I would say the same.” She let go of him, looking down to study their sand castle. “Do you want the smith next to the stables or the armory?”

Jon considered the partially completed sand castle. “Put the stables here.” He pointed to one of the castle walls. “The smith next to it and the library and maester’s turret on the other side of the courtyard, in this corner.” That would give them space for the guards to train with bow and swords. He finished the tower before moving to sit before another wall to continue on. “Do you want a sept?”

“No, I will follow my husband’s gods.”

“Your father built a sept for your mother, Sansa. If you want to follow both faiths, then you should do so.” Jon had always followed the old gods, it was the faith of his uncle and mother so he had made it his own. The heart tree was a simple thing, it lacked the pageantry of the Seven but Jon had always preferred it. 

She smiled tentatively. “I pray to the Mother mostly, sometimes the Maiden. A small sept next to the godswood.”

Jon knew that, she sang hymns at times when she thought he was not listening. “I’ll make the library.” It would be a small one, he didn’t have much use for it. 

They worked together in silence until only the godswood remained. Jon created a short wall around it with a gate at its entrance. “We can’t make tree branches, the sand will crumble.” 

She grinned knowingly before revealing the leaves she’d wrapped in cloth. “Our branches.”

He laughed, not surprised Sansa had considered it. They built a small woods in the heart of their sand castle, using the leaves to create a mix of pine, sentinel, and oak. They had no ash or chestnut but it was a godswood all the same. 

“It’s beautiful, Sansa.” It was lovely, two large bulwarks flanked each of the two gates. Sansa had used a small stick to draw little wolves and trees along the the towers to mimic banners. 

“We may have it someday.”

“It’s possible we will never leave here, you realize that?”

She drew close to him. “I know.” Sansa clasped  his hand, pulling it into her lap. “We have each other and soon we will a babe of our own. You can be frightened tomorrow, Jon, but for now, can we enjoy it?”

“Aye, we can enjoy it.” They would finish the house first, it would be ready soon enough. Jon had checked the pitch before returning to Sansa, his idea would work and it had only cost him a sword. After, they could figure out what else needed to be done. “Should we make a cradle? Or toys? Babies like toys.”

“Newborn babes like to be held and sung to by their mother.” 

Jon did not give an answer, he wouldn’t know. “I won’t deny wishing the circumstances were different, you should have a maester to see to you.  But, I’ll do everything I can to see you both taken care of.”

“Did you mean what you said, about the two of us?” He noticed she avoided his choice of words.

“I wanted you, Sansa, I still do. If you knew some of my thoughts, you’d be horrified. They aren’t especially proper.” His secret fantasies were very improper. “Even so, that doesn’t change my feelings towards you, I’ve never lied about that. Not once.” Jon pulled her into his arms so she lay strewn across his lap. She nuzzled his neck before her head rested on his shoulder. 

“Our castle is beautiful.”

“The tides will eventually take it away.”

“It doesn’t matter, we still made it.”

“Are you hungry?” Jon’s stomach began to grumble, he intended to finish the goose meat very soon. “You need to eat.” 

“I’m hungry too.” Even so, she stayed resting on him, making no move to get up. “No more worrying today, promise me.”

“I promise.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Some castles are made with snow, others with sand. I figured it got the point across well enough, I've had this idea sitting in my head for awhile.


	18. Chapter 18

“It’s even bigger than I hoped for.”

Jon felt Sansa lean against him, her skin warmed by sun. He could smell the light scent of wildflowers in her hair, she’d taken up the practice of using that water of hers again while washing. He suspected he was the cause. “I thought you’d enjoy being able to walk more than a few paces.”

It cost him one ruined sword, two sennights, and three destroyed pines, but they finally had something to show for it all. Two sides were finished now, built with a mixture of limbs and secured together with rope. Posts were buried in the dirt and secured with pitch, awaiting the final two walls. 

“Do you want me to help?” Sansa began to clasp his hand. 

Jon gently pulled away. “There’s no sense in getting this on both of us.” He raised his arm up to show her. “You can help me scrub it off,” he teased. 

His hands and arms were covered in tar and his nails were black. He did not want Sansa’s assistance with this portion of the work. The process of covering the rope with pitch was easy, but, more so, Sansa’s hand were not yet as worn or callused as his. Jon meant to keep them so as long as possible. 

Behind him lay a second hearth, the fire kept small, with a large rock covering part of it. Next to the pit rested a large pile of twigs, their ends smothered in black pine tar. 

He picked up another section of wall, bringing it to rest next to one of the posts. “Can you hold this?” 

She poked his chest. “I’m not ill.” 

Sansa was not sick but she emptied her stomach at least once a day, even so. It had been the smell of apples that morning and fish the previous day. It would be something else tomorrow, perhaps the smell of mud next. He would not be surprised. “No, something better.” Her pleased grin told Jon he’d spoken correctly. 

He had kept his promise made to her over a fortnight ago, Jon did not utter any of his worries or fears aloud. He  would need to, eventually, there was much to be done to prepare for the birth of their child. But, not yet, and not that day. Jon was not so stupid as to needlessly visit more pain on her. 

“Something better,” he repeated before kissing her chin. “Don’t move it.”  Jon quickly tied the rope on one side of the panel before repeating the process on the other. 

“Where’s the rest of the wall?” She asked, confused.

Jon kept his face serious. “I thought you might like a door. If you’d rather go without we can do that, too. I’ll warn you though, we won’t be able to make much use of our new house.”

Sansa shoved at him. “You can go without, ser. I intend to rest in comfort, upon a luxurious bed of silks.”

Would that they could do so now. “Are you tired?”

She sat by the fire, pulling her knees to her chest. A breeze came, lifting a few errant strands of hair. He wanted to touch them but his hands stayed by his sides. “Not quite yet. I’ll help you wash first.” 

Jon quickly finished, coating the final rope panel. The remaining side and roof would be completed the next day. The building would be an ugly thing, and simple. The walls were a mess of branches. Jon had cut or broken them all, making them fairly even in size. Black pine tar glistened on the corners and wherever else the cattail rope was in use. The substance did nothing to add to their new home’s beauty but the rope would last much longer. It contained no ornamentation, no carvings in the stone or tapestries on the walls. No banners would hang from the roof. Sansa would somehow make it theirs though, of that he did not doubt.

At the whisperings waters, Jon quickly shed his clothes before rushing into the water while Sansa followed behind at a more staid pace.

“Give me your hands.” She held out one of her own, palm up.

Jon did as told. “You know they’ll be dirty again tomorrow. Do you plan to wash me again then too?” Once, Sansa’s need to care for him had been a source of frustration. He rather enjoyed it now.

“If need be. We aren’t savages, no matter our circumstances,” she said curtly. Sansa ceased studying his hands, looking up to meet his eyes before smiling gently. The ends of her hair were wet, turning the stands a dark brown. 

“Your waist has changed,” he blurted.

Sansa’s expression grew stricken. “Are you saying I’m fat?” Her lip quivered.

“No, not at all,” he explained. Jon knew Sansa’s body as well as she did, even more so in many ways. The intimacy between them surpassed those of husband and wife within the Seven Kingdoms. Their circumstances required it. “Your belly is still quite flat. Here,” he said, drawing her to him. “There's less difference between your hip and waist. You'll be growing soon.” Jon did not know how long they had, five moons or so, mayhaps a bit more. 

“Soon, not today,” she said. Her smile lessened. Sansa may long for their child, but she fretted too. 

It was his fit of temper that did it. The image of her face raw with pain, as she accused him of making her something dirty and shameful, would haunt him for the rest of his days. Jon absently stroked the favor she once gave him. Sansa’s eyes traced his movements. The end’s had begun to fray from time and weather. He did not care, he intended to never take it off.  “It makes no matter to me. Are you tired?”

Sansa had begun to complain of being tired almost a sennight ago. He’d begun to plan their days with the assumption she would nap at some point in the early afternoon. Jon did not know how common it was for women to feel this way. In Winterfell, the only women he spent time with were Old Nan and the Lady Catelyn, neither of which would share such information with him.

It took him four more days to finish, Jon decided he was mostly pleased with the results. Along with the promised door, their house came with two windows on opposing walls. Sansa had been the one to weave the coverings for all three. The roof was a black sheet but it would keep the rain out.  There was room enough inside for everything they owned. “It’s uglier than I thought it would be.”

Sansa did not answer, instead great sobs escaped her body as tears fell. 

Jon did not know if he should comfort her or feel defensive. “It’s not that ugly.” She did not stop. “Well, I suppose it is a bit hideous.” 

“It’s not hideous at all, don’t ever say that again.” She threw herself at him before dropping kisses all over his face. “It occurred to me, Joffrey would likely have given me anything I asked for.” Jon bristled at the name. Sansa noticed. “You misunderstand. He would have snapped his fingers and someone else would have done the work. Look at your hands. They’ve given me everything I ever wanted.” She picked one up, letting the tips of her fingers stroke along his palm.

Jon felt awkward. His nails were ripped and torn. Both hands were covered in scratches and more than a few mild burns from working so closely to the fire. “I could easily say the same of you.” He picked a lock of hair, gently tucking it behind her ear before splaying a hand across her belly. At times, Jon thought it had begun to grow the barest amount but that was mostly a wish. It was still early. 

He’d spoken true, Sansa gave him all he’d ever dreamed of but the gods saw fit to make a jape of it. Jon had a wife he dearly loved, yet never exchanged vows with, and their marriage would soon yield a child, a bastard just as he was. “I love you,” he murmured before kissing her. “Do you want to move in?”

Her brow arched mischievously. “Not yet, there is something we need to do first.” She pushed him forward. “Come on.”

“What do we need to do?”

They did not go far. Their living space was not big with the new house occupying most of the clearing. 

“Stupid hovel,” she growled before kicking at it and looking up at him with pride.

“It’s not stupid.” Jon had said as much many times before, it never made a difference.

“It is.” She kicked it twice more. The branches fell down in a pile. “I didn’t think that would happen so easily,” she said sheepishly.

“Our clothes are in there. And our bed.” 

“I’m sorry.”

“No, you’re not.”

She shook her head. “I’m really not.”

He laughed, pulling her close for a kiss.

Two moons later and Jon felt as if the house had always been theirs. Sansa insisted on tying the windows open at night, to better hear the ocean waves. She brought flowers inside almost every day, creating little bouquets on their shelves. The chair he’d plucked from the water so long ago was finally in use. The pitch now went towards lanterns, giving them a source of light after the sun set. 

“Jon?” Sansa lay by his side, her head resting on his chest. 

The small lantern they’d taken to bed cast her in shadows. Even partially hidden, he thought she was beautiful. “Is something wrong?” 

He felt along the gentle slope of her belly but nothing seemed amiss. Sansa no longer grew sick after eating, which he was exceedingly grateful for. Twice now, he’d felt their babe moving. 

“No, nothing.” She sat up to face him. “Do you remember the day we built the castle on the beach?”

He grinned at the memory. “I’m not likely to forget the day we built our castle.” He did not speak the rest, that was the day Sansa convinced him to cease his worries over Lord Eddard and Robb. Jon would rather spend the rest of his life forgotten by the world than return to north if it meant they were not together. 

“Did you mean it?”

Jon blinked, trying to remember. “What did I say?”

Sansa did not speak right away. “What are your improper thoughts?” She spoke in a whisper. 

He let out a sound that was half a gulp and half a squeak. “I’d rather not tell you.”

“Why not?”

He could not think of a reason. Jon felt his face and neck heat up. “You want to know?” He drew himself up before facing her, choosing to make a great study of her shoulder. “Once, I pictured taking you in the great hall of Winterfell, on the head table. We were alone though, obviously.” 

“Obviously.” She sounded enraptured. “Tell me another.”

“Seven hells, Sansa. This is a simple one, but I think of us in a great bed at times, surrounded by pillows and silk sheets.” Jon considered what else to share. “In the godswood, in the hot springs of Winterfell. If we were in our castle, then I’d make a point to take you in every room.”

“Is that all?” 

“What else do you want to know?” Sansa pulled her tunic off. Jon had an idea. “There is one more thought. Lay down.” 

He pushed her down before shouldering her legs apart. Jon put his mouth on her, quickly bringing her to her peak.

He wiped her wetness with the back of his hand. “Turn over.”

“What?” She gasped, still breathless. 

Jon bent over her. “Can you get on your hands and knees?” He kissed her. “I’ll stop if you want me to or if you don’t like it, I promise.”

She nodded. If the light was better, Jon would swear her eyes would be mostly black. Sansa did as he asked. Jon admired the slope of her back, letting his finger trace Sansa’s spine before cupping one hip. He slid into her, letting her immediate moan of pleasure spur him on.

*****

“Your lips are stained.”

She licked at them. “I didn’t think it was possible to eat this many berries all at once.” She ate another one. “Don’t laugh.”

“I’m not, it’s a grin of affection.” His lips drew even wider. She stuck her tongue out at him. That did make him laugh. “Do you want more?”

“Shut up.” Sansa considered, she was still hungry. “Yes, please.” 

She lay still, content to let Jon fetch more. Sansa would swear he was even more considerate of her than her lord father had been towards her lady mother. He’d taken to rubbing her back at night and was no longer able to go more than a few minutes without an assurance that she did not need his help. 

“Where are we going today?” 

Sansa pulled her gown. “She’s kicking again.” It was queer to watch the movements, their babe made her skin ripple and flutter about. Jon palmed her stomach. “You still believe she’s a girl?”

“Aye, a girl who looks like you, just as I said.”  He had been certain of this from the very beginning. “Are we going to the ocean?”

“No, I want to float today.” Sansa spent time doing just that almost every day now, the water helped ease the ache of her growing belly.

Jon stood. “Come on then.” He held out his hand, pulling her up. 

“Soon, you’ll be forced to shove me along the ground.” 

“Or drag you by your feet. I could put you to bed and leave you there.”

“You would not dare, Jon Snow,” she exclaimed.

He snorted. “I would.”

She ignored him. Jon was frightened, Sansa knew it. So, far, there had been no repeats of that horrible day. She dearly hoped to never witness such a scene again. 

Sansa did not at all enjoy the way she walked. It made her feel like a horribly wretched duck. She waddled along after Jon, while he moved as quick and graceful as he always did. She did not like that either. “Can we go slower?”

“Sorry.” He slowed his pace, putting a hand at the small of her back. “I forget sometimes.”

They walked the rest of the way in silence. Sansa waited until Jon’s back was turned to her before pulling off the gown she wore. She knew he was aware of her growing size but every time she undressed in front of him, Sansa felt embarrassed over her body as if it was the first time.

She walked in and her head fell back in pleasure as the cool water reached her waist.

“Do you feel better?” Warm arms enveloped her.

“I do now.” There were times Sansa felt soreness on the sides of her stomach but she’d decided they were normal and Jon did not need to know. “Will you be getting apples tomorrow?”

It had been Jon’s idea to learn how to better preserve food. Tomorrow, they would begin with apples. He had also increased the amount of ocean water they collected in order to grow their salt yield. Their hope was to have enough food supplies so that he would not have to leave her so much after the birth. Sansa had never attempted to preserve food before, her only knowledge came from what she’d overheard in the kitchens as a child. 

“We have those in abundance.” They did. If chance should ever allow them to leave the island, she intended to never eat another one again.

“Sansa.” He hesitated. “You’ll need me to be there when the baby comes. You will not be able to do it by yourself.”

She turned to stare at him, flummoxed. Sansa planned for Jon to be on the other side of the island, as far from her as possible. She could not allow him to see her bear a child, it wasn’t decent. Sansa readied a speech to explain. “What?” She squawked. 

 


	19. Chapter 19

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Note the new childbirth tag.

Sansa stepped away from him, further into the water until it went past her belly, covering her chest. It was clear all the way to the bottom where her feet rested on small pebbles, but Sansa took some comfort in the illusion that her body was hidden away, at least a little.

“You heard me.” Jon followed after, pulling her close. There was still space between them, her stomach prevented him from grabbing at her the way he wanted. He grimaced. “I’m right too, even if you want to be stubborn and not see it.”

She had no desire for him to see her like that. Sansa did not know very much, only what Septa Mordane and her mother told her. The birthing bed was no place for a man, even your lord husband. “I don’t want you there,” she said, her voice quivering. The idea of Jon seeing her with a babe coming from her nethers, it filled Sansa with a great shame.

“Why not?”  Jon’s arms fell to his sides and Sansa thought he would plead with her. Then, his jaw set in that way of his before he touched her favor. “If you think it’s indecent, I’ll warn you, I won’t listen to a word of it. If need be, you’ll be tied to a tree and kept close by.”

“You wouldn’t.” At least she hoped so.

“I would. Lead you around on a leash so you can’t run away, don’t think I won’t.”  She did not appreciate the harsh tone of his voice.

It was more than indecent, only Jon did not understand. Sansa was forced to share so much with him. Jon had knowledge of her body no lord husband should have. A streak of sunlight came through the trees, shining down on the two of them. Sansa focused on the glare rather than at him. “I would rather you not see me like that,” she murmured.

“Why not?”

Her cheeks burned. “Isn’t it obvious?”

“No, Sansa. It isn’t.” He grabbed one of her hands, interlacing their fingers together before bringing it to rest over his heart. Sansa let herself play with the wiry hair she found there. “We know every part of each other and it hasn’t frightened me away yet. Seven hells, Sansa, I held your hair every time you retched, I know when you get your moon blood, I know when-”

“Don’t.” she interrupted. Sansa would not let him speak it.

“All right, but it’s no less true. Do you believe this would change how I feel about you?” He grabbed her chin, tilting her head up so Sansa was forced to look at him. “What of me? Do you intend to banish me somewhere alone to wait and wonder? If something were to go wrong, how would I know?” He was frightened, she reminded herself.

Sansa blinked back her tears, nodding. “Only if you try not to look.” She thought that was very fair.

“I won’t promise that.  This isn’t a discussion, Sansa. I’m telling you what will happen and your worry over it is completely unnecessary. I love you.” He leaned towards her so their foreheads touched. “I’ll love you even more tomorrow. Come on, we’re done swimming.”

“We only just got here.”

“Time to go,” he said, going on as if she’s never spoken. Jon moved quickly, pushing her towards the water’s edge. He picked up their clothes, shoving them into her hands before putting on his shoes. “Put your arms around my neck.”

She shrieked. “You should have warned me.”

He gave a rumbling laugh. “Then you would have refused. No claims of being too heavy either,  I won’t listen.”

Sansa leaned her head against his shoulder, content to look up into the bright green of the tree tops above her. “Where are we going?”

“Home.” Jon did not explain further. He walked, determined. She could feel his warm breath against the skin of her neck.

“I’m too heavy. Put me down.”

“I’m not listening to you.”

“Please.”

“Can’t hear you, sorry.” He ignored her after that, refusing to speak until they came home where he promptly set her down. “That’s better.”

Sansa loved their house. The windows were open, letting the bright sunlight in. “Why are we here?”

“Putting a stop to your worries.” Jon grabbed the clothes she still carried in her arms, tossing them to the ground. “Won’t be needing those.”

Sansa felt uncomfortable, standing naked before him. She started to cover her belly but he stopped her. “Jon?”

He kissed her for an answer, strong and fierce. He licked her, taking it deeper as his thumbs stroked her neck. They’d kissed so many times, she could not count them all, but Sansa decided this was one of her favorites. Jon’s hands slid into her hair, pulling at it until she tilted her head back. Jon kissed her everywhere, her cheeks, her chin, her lobes, her neck, her clavicle, and lower.

He pulled away, his breathing turned harsh and ragged. Jon’s eyes were black. “You’re not big or fat or anything else. I love you. I love every part of you.” He leaned down and took the tip of one nipple into his mouth and began to suck before doing the same to the other. “I love your teats. I want to see them grow full with milk while you nurse our child. Will you let me do that?”

“I love your belly. I love watching it grow and feeling our babe moving in you.” Jon got on his knees before splaying his hands across her stomach and kissing the very top of it. “I love the marks your body makes as you grow.” He kissed her sides and hips were her skin had stretched.

Sansa wiped the wetness from her cheeks with the back of her hands. “Jon?” Her question sounded like a whimper.

“I’m not done yet, keep listening.” He traced the ugly line along her belly with the tip of his finger. “I love you here.” Jon kissed the trail down her belly to the hair of her mound which he kissed too. “Your ankles, all swollen up. I love them too.” He surprised her, almost laying down to kiss the top of her feet, making her giggle. “Do you know what else?”

“What else?” She spread her legs as she felt his hand stroke up her thigh. Her breath hitched.

“Here, too. I love you here.” He kissed between her legs and then she felt his warm tongue against her.

“Oh...oh..Jon.” She moaned, grabbing at the locks of his hair to pull him closer to her. Sansa felt his arms encircling her thighs. Sansa’s head fell back as she lost herself in the pleasure he gave her.

“I love every part of you Sansa, don’t ever think any different.” Jon’s lips and chin glistened. His expression was soft and tender.

“I….” Sansa tried to speak, but she cried instead.

“I’d hoped for a better reaction than tears.” He stood to wipe at her cheeks. “Do you believe me?”

She sniveled. “Yes, I believe you.”

His manhood was hard, thrusting out in front of him. Sansa went to stroke it but he pushed her hand away. “Not yet,” he rasped. Jon rested the small pile of scraps she used at night on their bed. “Lay down. Come on, I’ll help you.”

Sansa did as he wanted. Jon helped her in and out of bed most of the time now, they’d both grown used to it. Suddenly, she could feel the heat of his skin against her shoulders and back and along her legs.

“Sansa?” His hand rested on her hip, pinching ever so slightly.

She raised her leg, placing it over his thigh. Jon kissed her shoulder and then he was inside her. Sansa whimpered before reaching behind her to pull him closer.

He began to whisper roughly in her ear, spreading gooseflesh all over her body “My beautiful wife, I love you. I love you so much.” Jon’s hands roamed all over her body as he moved, whispering all the time. Beautiful words, sweet words, loving words. Sansa’s answering sighs soon gave way to shrieks as he began to roar in her ear before stilling.

They lay together quietly afterward and Sansa felt herself growing tired.

“I’ll stay with you until you fall asleep.” His fingers lazily grazed along her side.

“How do you know I want to sleep?”

Jon snorted. “You do every day. Come on.” He moved so she rested on his chest. “You’ll have food waiting when you wake up.”

“Jon…” She drawled out lazily.

“What is it?”

“I love you too.” Sansa drifted off.

The days passed, one after the other, and Sansa’s stomach grew even bigger. Her skin itched and pulled. Sleeping had become a difficult endeavor. There were times when it seemed as if Sansa did nothing but eat and eat. Jon took care to have extra food stored away and a place for her to deliver had been prepared. Still, the child did not come. She began to despair, thinking it would never end. Then, one night, as she tried desperately to fall asleep, Sansa felt a queer tightening low in her belly. The night went on and she slept as best she could but the feeling did not come back.

*****

Jon woke early. Sansa lay beside him. For once, she seemed to sleep heavily which he was grateful for. The sky outside was a dull gray, the sun not yet up. He kissed the top of her stomach, noticing she’d removed her clothes during the night. That was not unusual as of late. If she wore something, Sansa wanted to take it off. If she was naked, she complained and quickly dressed.

He went off, hoping for a catch of fish before she woke up. The past sennight, Jon had limited their meat to fish once more so he did not need to leave Sansa for quite so long. He’d never been with a laboring woman before but he knew her time was drawing close. Jon gutted the fish and threw it on the fire before going inside.

“Are you awake?” Sansa lay where he’d last seen her but her eyes were still half-lidded.

“No.” Her voice was scratchy.

Jon rested on his haunches beside her. “Food is cooking so you can eat when you are ready.” He wiped her hair back from her face before she put her hands out. He pulled Sansa to her feet. “How are you?”

“My skin itches.”

“I know.” Sansa made sure he knew at least twice a day. “Come on, I’ll get you food.”

Jon started to eat, pretending not to notice she disappeared as she always did in the mornings.

“I want to go to the berrylands today, it’s so pretty there.”

“Do you want me to come with?”

“No, this way all our work will be done sooner.” She smiled prettily at him, kissing his cheek.

They finished eating and Sansa set off, basket in hand. Jon stared after her as she walked through the trees, her figure slowly fading from view. He left to refill their water skins, returning to find Sansa still gone.

Suspicion settled over him and Jon went off in search of her. Sansa had a habit of disappearing on him when she had a secret to keep. It took him less than five minutes to seek her out.

“What are you doing?” Sansa was bent over, both hands resting against a pine tree.

“I hoped it would be quick,” she wailed. “I remember Maester Luwin telling my mother Rickon was very fast.”

Jon swallowed as his heart began to thunder in his chest. “She’s coming, isn’t she?” He tried to pick her up but Sansa pulled away from him.

“I don’t want to move.” Tears were in her eyes.

“We won’t move then, not yet. Are you in pain?”

“Sometimes but then it goes away.”  

Jon didn’t know what that meant. “Will you tell me when the pain comes back?” Sansa nodded but did not answer. He came up behind her, stroking her hair before putting an arm around her. She was afraid, he realized. Sansa was never afraid. He was normally the one to carry that particular burden.

“It hurts, Jon.” She mumbled. Sansa buried her face into the neck of the tree once more, ignoring him.

“Sansa?”

She turned around. “I want to go home now.”

He picked her up and left. The empty basket rested on the ground, forgotten.

“Lay down.” Jon helped her onto the mat Sansa had made. She’d insisted on her own birthing bed, not wanting to ruin any of their other possessions. “There is food and water for you too.”  He sat behind Sansa, pulling her into his chest. “Rest against me.”

Sansa collapsed so heavily against him, Jon almost fell back onto the ground. Another whimper escaped her. He wiped at his cheeks with his palm. “Do you want me to tell you a story about  Robb and me?”

“Yes please.”

“You were maybe four years old, too young to remember. Robb and I filled up several buckets of water and carried them up to the bulwarks above the kings road gate where we waited for Ser Rodrik to pass through. It took awhile but when he did, the two of us dumped all of it on him and his horse. He ended up falling off. We got caught, of course, but we blamed it on Theon. He didn’t speak to us for days afterward.”

She laughed but then it turned into a moan. “Tell me more.”

They ended up sitting together underneath an oak tree as the day went on. Jon’s body grew stiff from lack of movement, but he could not bring himself to leave her. “Do you want me to look?”

She craned her neck to face him, pure horror on her face. “No, why would you ask me that?”

“I don’t know.” Jon itched to help her in some way, only he did not know how.

“Tell me another story.”

He didn’t have many more stories to give her, that was Sansa’s gift. Not Jon’s. “There’s the time Robb and I decided to sneak into the brewery to try and steal a cask of ale. We didn’t get very far though, Barth found us a few minutes after. We had cups in the godswood waiting for us but we never got to use them.”

Sansa moaned and Jon could hear the pain in her voice. It worried him. “Sansa?”

“Can’t...talk…” She whispered. “I want to lay down now. Go away so I can sleep.” Her eyes were already closed.

“You shouldn’t sleep.” Jon didn’t know why.

She moved off him to lay flat on the ground. He checked her brow for any sign of a fever but could not detect any. For the first time since arriving on their island, Jon wished for a heart tree so he could pray. If something were to happen to Sansa, there was nothing he could do.

After a few minutes, Jon moved so he sat between her legs, parting her thighs. “I’m sorry,” he whispered. Except, she looked the same she always did. He was reluctant to do anything else. Jon went back to waiting and as he was about to wake her, Sansa suddenly bolted upright and screamed. He did not think she was aware of his presence.

It went on and on, whether minutes or hours, Jon could not say. Every so often, he would ask her a question but she never answered. Only screams broken by short bursts of quiet. He could only try not to cry. He mostly succeeded. Then, she got on her hands and knees and a great gush of liquid fell from between her legs.

“What was that?” Her voice was slurred.

“Your waters. I’m going to look at you Sansa.” He didn’t think she heard him.

Jon moved so he lay next to her and his mouth fell open in shock. “Gods,” he whispered, wiping at his eyes. He got up to rub her back. “I saw her, Sansa. Can you hear me? I saw our little girl.”

And then it was done. Sansa let out a scream that would haunt him until he drew his final breath and a baby fell into his hands. She collapsed, holding up her arms. Jon reluctantly gave up his daughter. “I told you we were having a girl.”.

Sansa’s skin was red and her hair matted with sweat. Her eyes were bloodshot. She smiled tiredly at him. “You did. What’s her name?”

“Lyanna, after my mother.” Jon grabbed one of the water skins, helping her to drink. “She has blue eyes.” He sat behind Sansa to pull his family into his arms.

“Jon, she’s nursing.”

He looked over his wife’s shoulder and would swear his daughter met his eyes. Jon burst into tears.

  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hopefully it wasn't overly graphic. I did want to keep it realistic though.


	20. Chapter 20

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is one of the shortest, if not the shortest, chapters in the story. But, this was the right place to end it based upon upcoming story lines. This has...maybe...five chapters left. So, home stretch and all that.

“She's clean. I suppose you’ll be wanting to take her back?”  Jon stood in the doorway, half in shadow, holding Lyanna against his chest. 

Sansa suppressed a smile at the hint of jealousy in his voice. “She’ll be hungry. Sit with us.” She still lay in bed, enjoying the brief respite from having a newborn babe attached to her breast. 

Their daughter was born only three days past and already her family found their rhythm. Jon woke first, as he always did, to gather water and wash the rags she and Lyanna used. She’d taken one of the old captain’s tunics and cut it down into three large cloths to wrap Lyanna in. The sleeves saved so long ago were made into rags for her and her daughter. He saw to their food, cleaned their daughter’s messes, and attended to her every need. So far, Sansa had done little more than keep a child at her breast and sleep. 

Jon squatted next to her, supporting Lyanna’s back and neck with his arms. “She pissed on me again.” 

“Lyanna likes her mother better.”

“Lyanna likes her mother’s teats better,” he countered.

Sansa decided to ignore him. She pulled herself up, readying to take her daughter, but found herself cradling her breasts against her body instead. “Jon, they hurt. They hurt,” she whimpered. 

His eyes narrowed with worry. “What hurts?”

“My breasts.” Sansa gingerly touched them, they were hard and swollen.

Jon settled Lyanna into her arms. “Let me touch.” She shied away. His mouth twisted. “Not like that. I’ll be gentle.” He lightly cupped one before releasing it. “Your milk is in.”

Sansa knew that. She’d been giving milk to Lyanna since birth. “You aren’t speaking sense.”

He scratched at his hair, pulling it from his eyes. “Yes, I am. You should have spent more time with Hullen. He showed me on a mare once or twice. Feed our little girl, you’ll feel better.”

Sansa did as he said but could not tell a difference. Lyanna’s blue eyes drifted shut and her hand landed on Sansa, lightly stroking. “She’s hungry. We will be here for awhile.”

Jon leaned over them, kissing the top of Lyanna’s head. “Aye, you will be. She's always hungry, smart girl. I'll bring food for you too. How are you? Still bleeding?”

“I haven't looked.” The amount had caught her unawares. She also didn't particularly care for speaking of it with Jon either. 

“We need to know, Sansa.” 

“You can look then,” she said stubbornly. Jon put one hand on her thigh, pulling at her. She stared, aghast. “What are you doing?”

He pretended innocence. “Looking, just as you said.” 

“I didn't mean it.” Sansa moved Lyanna to her other breast. Her daughter kept feeding, hardly seeming to notice the change. “After we eat,” she deflected. 

“I'll be right back then. Don't try and run away.”  

Sansa wanted to ask where she would go but Jon had already stood back up. Instead, she did her best to support Lyanna with one hand while trying to look between her legs. More blood, as she knew there would be. But, less than the day before and no fever so far. “There’s not so much blood, my little Lyanna,” she quietly cooed to her daughter. “Tell your father to cease his worrying.”

“Tell your mother it’s my duty to worry.” Jon sat next to her, food in hand. “I’ll feed you if it helps.” He began to place berries into her mouth. Sansa ate them all, she was hungry. He gave her a grim smile after she finished. “I’m not fussing, Sansa, considering what happened after.”

“I remember,” she mumbled before kissing her daughter’s forehead. She knew what Jon referred to. Sansa didn’t much like to think on the ugly red sack that had fallen from her body, but that was not what Jon spoke of. “I thought I was going to die and leave you alone with her. There was so much, buckets of it.”

He tucked a stray bit of hair behind her ear. “Not so much, more than we thought is all.”

Sansa would remember Lyanna being placed in her arms for all her days, it was a sweet memory. The three of them had spent time on the mat together and Jon had made no effort to hide his tears from her. She loved him all the more for it. After a while, she’d stood, announcing her intention to go home but neither of them had been prepared for the bleeding. Sansa had looked between her legs, shrieking and crying out that she was going to die, forcing Jon to take Lyanna from her arms while trying to also calm her. She felt shame over it. “I didn’t mean to frighten you.”

“Don’t apologize over it.” He fed her more berries, content to watch their daughter at her breast. Every so often, Jon would stroke the little tufts of hair on her head. “I told you, didn’t I?”

More than once in the past three days Sansa had wished Jon was wrong over their daughter’s eye or hair color. He’d been continuously boasting over it since. “Same shade as mine,” she said ruefully.

“Is she asleep?”

Sansa let the tip of one finger glide across her daughter’s cheek. Blue eyes stared back at her. “Not yet. Soon.” Lyanna’s lids drifted shut as her mouth went slack. A thin trickle of milk fell down her cheek and into the hidden crack of her neck. “Now she is.”

She gently moved the babe into her father’s arms. Jon lay on his back, resting beside her. Lyanna slept on, unaware of her new position, her arms and legs curled up against him. Sansa placed her hand over Jon’s as a tear fell down her cheek.

“What’s wrong?”

“Look,” she said, picking up her hand and pointing where it just laid. “She’s so small, your hand covers her entire back.”

“She’s only a few day old. I’d be worried if she wasn’t small.” 

“Do you regret it?”

Jon drew his eyes away from their child to study her. “How could I regret any of this?” His lips drew flat before changing to a smile. “We were stupid, I won’t take that back. But, everything either of us wanted is right here.”

Sansa lay next to him, taking his free arm and drawing it around her. Soon, she would need to clean herself and put small clothes back on. She would, soon. 

*****

Jon sat by the fire with his legs crossed, his daughter laying in his lap. He passed her a twig, delighting in the way she grasped it. Her eyes stared up at him, intently studying his face. “Sansa, I’m fairly certain she thinks it’s a sword.”

“Nonsense,” she said firmly. “Our daughter despises swords and all other manner of weaponry.”

“Someday, I’ll teach her to use a bow.” Jon lacked Theon’s skill with archery but he knew enough. In Winterfell, teaching Bran had been one of his many responsibilities. He’d give Arya several lessons too. 

“Hawking too.” Sansa came to sit beside him, resting her head on his shoulder. “That was part of my education.”

“Aye, that as well.” 

“Do you think she will cry again tonight?” Sansa’s voice was filled with a mix of dread and hesitancy. 

Jon glanced up towards the sky. It was well past midday, the blue would slowly fade to a pale gray. “I want to tell you no.” 

“But you can’t.” 

He could not, no matter what Jon might wish for. The first two moons with Lyanna had been surprisingly easy. Jon had teased Sansa that she’d given him another proper little lady like her mother, sweet and eager to please. She’d not liked that so much which only encouraged him. “No.”

Sansa did not answer, her fingers twirling through the curls that had started to grow on their daughter’s head. She was the sort of mother Jon used to wish he had. She sang Lyanna to sleep and kept her close, somehow managing to accomplish everything with a single arm. She could tell when Lyanna was hungry before he did. 

She was a perfect mother and always knew what to do, at least until four nights ago which is when the crying began. It was always the same, the sky would turn to dusk and Lyanna’s wailing would not stop until she fell into an exhausted sleep several hours later. Sansa would cry along with their daughter while he felt helpless to do anything for either of them. 

As he predicted, this night proved to be more of the same. Jon watched Sansa attempt to feed their daughter before taking his turn pacing about the house. Like before, it made no difference, and she demanded her daughter back. Jon started to give her up before abruptly changing his mind. Sansa’s eyes were red rimmed and brimming with unshed tears. “I’m going to take her for a walk.” He walked out of their house, towards the brightly lit fire.

Sansa followed after. “Where are you going?” He almost didn’t hear her.

“The ocean.” He left her behind, pleased Sansa did not follow. 

It was not far, he could see the light of their fire through the tree line so he could easily find his way back. Jon sat at the ocean’s edge, listening to the quiet roar of waves, letting the water lap at their feet and legs. The crying stopped.

He grinned, feeling triumphant. Jon began to stroke her face, chuckling to himself at the way she followed his motions with her eyes. “We need to give your mother some rest, don’t we? She loves you so much and I want her to be happy more than anything.” He stayed there, until the sky grew dark and his daughter finally drifted off to sleep. “It’s time to go home, Lyanna Snow,” he whispered before cradling her against his chest and standing up. 

Sansa waited for them. “She’s asleep,” he whispered. “Let’s go to bed.” 

“How did you do it?” 

Jon took Sansa’s hand, pulling it onto his chest. “I told her she needs to listen to her father and do as I say or face my wrath.”

“You did not.” Sansa’s voice was low but trembled with suppressed laughter.

“Aye, I did.” He turned on his side, moving closer to her in the darkness before settling his hand on her belly.

“You shouldn’t touch me there. I’m still…..”

“Still what?”

Her voice grew timid. “Not like I was before.”

“No, you’re better.” Jon knew what she meant but he disagreed with her. Sansa had been disappointed to realize she would not immediately return to her former size. “Where can I touch you?”

She paused, pretending to think. “My feet.”

“That’s not what I hoped for.” Jon sat up, dragging her closer to him.

“Lyanna is sleeping next to us,” she hissed 

“Lyanna has pissed on me. Consider this vengeance.” He slid between her legs. “I’ve missed you.” They kissed and slept together as they always had. Now though, Lyanna lay between them or curled up next to her mother. 

“I’ve missed you as well.” Jon considered how to ask, he did not want to put another child in her so soon. “I can hear you thinking, Jon Snow. My moon blood has not come back yet.”

“Oh, thank the gods.” He kissed her. 

*****

Robb had been unsure of what to do when faced with rival kings in the south, both demanding fealty from House Stark. He’d felt a green boy the day he sent a raven to White Harbor, asking his father’s counsel. He was not yet Lord Stark and it was not his decision to make.

It took almost a fortnight for an answer to be received. Maester Luwin, his aged face turned pale and grim, handed Robb a scroll. He took it, seeing the green Manderly sigil. Robb didn’t want to read the contents, he knew. His eyes filled with unshed tears as he scanned the contents.

“I need to speak with my mother alone. Find my brothers and sister and have them join us, please.”

“Yes, Lord Stark.” Measter Luwin said nothing else, leaving Robb alone in the courtyard. The rest of the household continued with their daily tasks as if nothing was amiss. The kitchen was busy with food preparations, he could hear the hounds in their kennels, and see the castle guard at practice. 

Robb ignored it all, seeking out his mother’s chambers. Winter had come for House Stark. 


	21. Chapter 21

Robb stuided his mother, unable to summon any words. She was still a beautiful woman, always would be, but grief and guilt had left a mark on her. He could see it in the tired slope of her shoulders and the emptiness behind her Tully blue eyes. Catelyn Stark still did her duty, ruled as the Lady of Winterfell, even so, he suspected she would disappear for the remainder of her days, if only the gods would allow it. But, she lived in the north now, and the old gods were cruel. 

“What does Manderly tell you?” Her fingers gripped her chair so harshly the skin of her knuckles were white.

“It was his eldest son, Ser Wylis.” His voice cracked. Robb dropped the parchment into his mother’s lap before following, falling to his knees as his body began to shake from the force of his sobs. 

“His bones are on their way to Winterfell. I will see them placed in the crypt next to his brother and a statue built,” his mother told him, her voice thin and brittle. Robb felt her fingers combing through his hair, it had been many years since she caressed him this way, as if he were still a small child.

Finally, his cries grew weak and he ached from spent tears. “I’ll bring you the head of Theon Greyjoy myself, I swear it to you.” The missive did not tell which Kraken slew his father but it made no matter, Theon had been a brother to Robb. It was Theon he had loved.

“Robb, no, you must listen to me.” She pulled at his chin, forcing him to look up at her. “If I believed Theon’s death would bring your father back to me or your sister and cousin home again, then I would happily swing the sword myself, I swear it to you.”

He remembered what Bran told him once, so very long ago. He’d promised his younger brother they would go on an adventure to find Sansa and Jon. “We will never find them again. This is all we have.”

“Make peace, Robb. It is what your father would have done. Must other fathers and sons die for our vengeance? His uncles are gone, Theon is a prisoner, and his sister begs for peace.”

“I don’t know what to do.” 

“Your duty as Lord Stark, as I must do.” Catelyn Stark’s face reminded him of stone. “My grief for you sister led me to neglect you and your brothers and sister. You cannot do the same.”

Sansa and Jon went south because of duty. It had been Robb himself who convinced Jon to go, to watch over Sansa and keep her safe. “They may yet be alive.”

His mother drew her eyes closed before slowly opening them once more. “They may be.” She pushed at him, urging him off his knees. “You are the Lord of Winterfell, Robb. You can not be seen weeping in your mother’s arms. I know your pain, believe me. Your father’s bones return to me but not the arms that held me at night. I will have a skull, not the sound of his sweet whispers. Our family needs us and your banner men need to see you leading them.”

“I have not told them yet.” Robb wondered how his younger siblings would react. Arya had been silent and angry when their father left. Rickon had cried and hidden away in the deepest part of the crypts. It had taken most of a day to find him.

“I will not have my children learn of it from the maester. I will see to it, but not yet, Robb. Give them their innocence a few moments more.”

Robb felt grateful, he’d dreaded telling them. “I will need to leave soon.”

“Prepare for your journey today. Tonight, we will mourn together as a family. For now, I must ask you to leave me be.” Her body was rigid and stiff in the chair, as if forcing herself to stay upright. She did not rise as he left the room. Robb did not think she could. 

“I will be back soon.” Outside the door, he rested his head against the grey stone wall, it was warm from the Winterfell hot springs. Duty required him to mourn for less than a day before marching west to finish what his father started. After that, Robb did not know what to do. Stannis and Joffrey both demanded fealty from House Stark. He did not care which sat on the Iron Throne, it had brought nothing but grief to his family. 

Through the wood door, Robb heard a wail escape his mother. He stood, listening for awhile, before leaving. Catelyn Stark’s heartbreak was her own. 

*****

For Sansa, the days passed quickly, each one bringing more joy with it. Now, she was married to a dark, bastard prince even though they never spoke their vows. She had a child, who she loved more than Sansa would have ever thought possible. She did not have a great palace, only a simple room made of wood. There was no godswood but she was surrounded by trees that gave them life. She thought it odd, all of Sansa’s childhood fantasies had come true for her, but no part of them in a way she could have imagined. She did not regret any part of it.

Their lives continued as always, made all the richer for having Lyanna in it. Jon’s teary eyes the first time Lyanna smiled at him would stay with her for the remainder of her days. There was an ease to him in the days since their daughter’s birth. He was a devoted father, and dutiful, as she’d known he would be. But, it was more than that. Lost away as they were, Jon was free to enjoy all his secret dreams in a way life in King’s Landing would never have allowed. 

“Come on, push with your leg.” Sansa lay on the floor facing her daughter. She held one of the golden moon flowers just far enough away so Lyanna could not reach it. “Almost there.” Sansa’s encouragement made no difference. Lyanna stayed on all fours refusing to even try crawling.

“Have you stooped so low as to offer bribes?” Jon had approached her unawares, carrying the bag they used for collecting walnuts.

“A sweet incentive,” she corrected.

“She will crawl when she is ready.” Jon got on his knees next to her. Lyanna did the same, seemingly imitating her father. He chuckled before kissing Lyanna’s head and cheeks. “My girl is as stubborn as her mother.”

Sansa considered herself to be very accommodating but she did not tell him that. She stroked her daughter’s hair, the color did match her own. Lyanna would have the long face of the Starks though, the same as her father and grandfather. “Are we going?”

“Aye. I'll take the girl, you get the bags.” Jon picked up Lyanna, swinging her about before holding her against his chest. She squealed with laughter as she always did. 

“She finished taking milk only a short bit ago, I’ll warn you.”

“I’ll be ready for it.”

Sansa did not respond. Likely, it was because she provided the milk, but, so far, she was much better than Jon at predicting when her daughter needed to make use of the small chamber pot they created for her. 

They strode down the beach as they had so many times only this time Sansa was largely silent. Before, Jon would ask her to tell him stories of their island and the imagined people that came before. Now, as they passed the family of geese, he told Lyanna of the great battles he fought against them. Sansa rather thought he made the creatures sound more terrifying than even Vhagar, Meraxes, or even Balerion the Black Dread. One day, when their daughter was older, Sansa would tell the story of how her father laid a sword at her mother’s feet and swore himself to her. 

Soon, they stood beneath the walnut tree. Jon set their daughter on the ground by her feet before pulling himself onto a nearby limb. Lyanna began to pick up handfuls of dirt, happily shrieking as she threw each one. Baths would be next, she decided. 

“No, no, Lyanna. Slow down.” Above her, she heard loud cackles of glee and pride. “Why did you decide to crawl now?” 

Sansa ran after her daughter who raced towards the beach, crawling over pine needles, dirt, and half-rotten walnuts as if they did not exist. She took three steps onto the beach before catching up. “Unable to sit still, the same as your father.” 

She scooped Lyanna in her arms before growing still. Instinct made her step backwards, in the hope the trees would offer concealment. She narrowed her eyes, shading them both with one hand to better see but there was no mistake. Far in the distance, so faint Sansa could scarcely make it out, was a spot of white on the blue-gray ocean. It was a ship, only the second one since the day they arrived. “Don’t tell your father, Lyanna. He doesn’t need to know,” she whispered into her daughter’s ear. Her stomach hurt. 

She hurried back to find Jon jumping off the lowest branch, readying himself to seek her out. “Is something wrong? You look pale.” He stroked her cheek with the back of one finger. 

“I pictured her getting lost and it frightened me,” she hastened to answer. Sansa could not even say why she kept the truth from Jon. The ship was so far away, she did not think there was anything either of them could have done. 

“That will never happen, I promise.” He took Lyanna back into his arms, praising her bravery.

She stared at the two of them, willing herself not to cry.

Later that night, after their daughter went to sleep, Sansa vowed to tell Jon about what she saw. Only, he laid her down on the bed and kissed her so sweetly, Sansa decided she had imagined the ship after all. 

*****

The Ironborn were gone from the north yet war raged on. Robb had been wroth with anger to see Theon Greyjoy once more but he sent the man to the wall as he'd promised his mother. Asha Greyjoy returned home with most of her ships destroyed and men dead. Qarl the Maid and a few others were now hostages and would be for the rest of their days. 

Now, Robb led his banner men south to fight for a Baratheon brother just as his father did so many years before. His lady mother had urged Robb to stay in the north but fighting the Ironborn had only whet his people’s appetite. Then, revelations had come that the Lannisters killed Jon Arryn and Renly Baratheon both and the Lannisters demanded the lords of the seven kingdoms come to give fealty while their heads rested on spikes. Tywin Lannister set his dogs on the Riverlands, sacking its towns and killing its people.

Already this war was coming to be known as Stannis’ Rebellion and the alliance that once existed came together again. The Tyrells had not yet pledged their support to one side or the other.

“What will they ask of me?”

Catelyn Stark grew stern. “Lord Tyrell is an ambitious man and will be courted by the Lannisters. You are the lord of almost half the kingdom and unwed.”

Robb knew what that meant. “And if I refuse?” His lady mother would be leaving in a few days time, accompanied by an honor guard to meet with the Tyrells and win them to Stannis’ cause. 

“Then we should continue south on the kings road where you bend the knee to Joffrey Baratheon.”

He was no Baratheon, if the rumors were true. “I will accept, if those are the terms you arrive at,” he said solemnly. Lady Margaery was said to be a beautiful girl with chestnut curls and lovely brown eyes. Robb would do his duty but there were still times he would think of Janina, the daughter of his master-at-arms. She’d been his comfort in the nights following the death of his lord father. 

She drew her horse close to his, grasping his hand before releasing it. “Your father and I were strangers when we wed but our love grew, we built it together. You can do the same.”

Rob had no answer. “My father told me that my men must see me, to remind them of who they fight for as we go into battle.”

“Go, Robb.”

He left his lady mother alone with her thoughts of war and the family they had lost.

*****

Jon covered her mouth. “Quiet now. If you wake her, she won’t go back to sleep.” She licked his hand, drawing forth a surprised yelp. 

“If she wakes, I’ll leave her caretaking to you while I slumber on in peace.” Sansa wrapped her arms around his neck, pulling him close. “Or, you could kiss me.”

He laughed before lowering himself so their lips met. After, Jon drew her close, their skin slick with sweat from their activity. It was a warmer night than usual and the air inside their house felt heavy and stifling. Jon wondered how many years they had until winter.

The next morning he woke early while his wife and daughter slept on. Lyanna had taken a great liking to fish, much to Sansa’s frustration. They ate more of it than ever before. His long ago vow remained the same, if they somehow managed to leave their island, Jon would never eat another meal that came from the sea, no matter what form it took. 

He returned to find his family awake, Lyanna playing with one of the toys he’d carved for her. She was naked, as she so often was. Sansa’s efforts to clothe her in a baby’s gown had been in vain, at least so far. He kissed her before doing the same to Sansa.

Later, as they ate their breakfast, Jon pulled Lyanna into his lap to kiss the top of her head. “I’m going goose hunting tomorrow. We need the fat and I thought you could make use of the feathers somehow for her.”

Sansa did not answer, sitting up and running to empty her stomach in a nearby bush. After, she took several large gulps from their water skin as a tear fell down her cheek. Jon felt an eerie disquiet grew on him, he’d seen her do the same before. “You aren’t sick, are you?”

“No.” She sat by the fire, drawing up her knees. Her tears turned into a great rush. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean it.”

This was his doing, Jon knew it. He recalled her behavior after they first learned about Lyanna. She’d started to use that scented water again and decorating her clothes with flowers. Sansa had tried to anticipate all his needs, jumping up to fetch him an apple or having their water skin in hand when he returned from hunting. He’d shamed them both then, inconsiderate and cruel when Sansa had needed him. “You have nothing to apologize for.” He set Lyanna down before moving close to her.

“I never had my moon blood. It was supposed to come back first,” she blubbered. Jon could hardly understand her.

“Apparently, we were misinformed. Please don’t cry, Sansa.” He embraced her before kissing her forehead. “We’ll figure it out, we did once before.”

“Are you angry with me?”

“No, I’m not angry at all,” he hastened to reassure her. The first time, all his anger had been directed inwards. It had been motivated by fear as much as anything else. “I’ll admit, we’re both stupid, even more so than I imagined. It seems we have a knack for putting children in your belly.” 

She sniffled but said nothing.

“Lyanna, would you like a younger brother?”

“No,” she said, giggling.

“How about a younger sister, then?”

“No.” It was the only word she knew.

“Well, there we are. I always wanted a no.”

Sansa still cried but a soft laugh escaped her too. She rubbed at her eyes. “Another child, can you believe it? I know we’re stupid but I’m pleased. More than pleased.”

“As am I.” The first time had been difficult for them both. Jon did not know how they would manage with a daughter while Sansa labored or lay abed in the days after. The dangers of childbirth were still with them too. It was luck more than any skill or knowledge that brought them through it. “A boy this time.” Jon wondered over their destiny, a family fated to spend their remaining days lost from the world. He knew the Starks had long since given them up for dead. 

She pulled at his hair, it needed cutting “A boy with your hair.”

“Poor, wretched creature.” 

“A Stark, like his father.”

Jon swallowed, not sure what answer to give. “I love you.” He smiled, eager to offer some comfort. He thought of his father for the first time in a great, long while. Rhaegar had taken his mother, mad with love and unable to live without her, or at least that was the stories that had been whispered to him over the years. If they were true, Jon thought perhaps he understood him, at least a small bit more. Somehow, the man felt less a stranger to him now.

They stayed for awhile, playing with their daughter, until Sansa felt ready to eat. After, they went in search of food before he checked traps while their daughter napped. The next day, Jon caught and killed another goose before taking it home to eat.

He ripped a chunk of flesh, placing it into his mouth and wiping at the grease falling down his chin. “I saw newly hatched goslings today. Pretty little things. I thought we could go see them tomorrow.”

Sansa did, as he’d known she would. This time, there was no request to take one for a pet for which he was exceedingly grateful. In the morning, they wandered through the trees, towards the geese nests that lived nearby. The earth below them was harder packed, easier for Lyanna to to walk on compared to the shifting sands of the beach. 

“Oh, Jon, look.” Several of the golden flowers Sansa loved grew nearby. The island was littered with them. “Can you take her while I pick some?” 

“Come on, little one. Your mother is busy.” He led Lyanna away from the pines and sentinels towards the beach where the geese could be found. 

Jon stopped abruptly, picking up his daughter to hold her close. He felt her small arms around his neck. “Don’t be frightened, sweet one.” Her face burrowed into his neck. It made no matter, she had the hair and Tully blue eyes of her mother, but the curls and long face of the Starks came from him. There was no mistaking her parentage. 

The men in front of him were all strangers, save the one. His hair was a shade or two darker but Jon looked into the same eyes every day. 

“I took enough to make a wreath for her and -” Sansa stared, the flowers in her hands fell to the beach, forgotten. Jon put his arm around her as she came towards him. “Robb.”


	22. Chapter 22

It was them, Robb knew. Always, he'd pictured both as they were the last time he saw them four long years ago, Sansa in her blue silk gown and Jon in plain brown wool, both as full of dreams as he'd once been. Robb wondered if their dreams were gone too.

“Robb.” Sansa clung to their cousin but stared pointedly at him. She was beautiful, her hair flecked with gold from the sun and the child’s body he remembered was gone. Now, Sansa looked a woman that men went to war for. She would not be the first Stark woman to send a man to that fate. Her clothing though, Robb had seen whores in King’s Landing that dressed better.

“I'd almost given up hope finding you.”

Jon said nothing but there was a peculiar tightening to his jaw that made Robb wonder if he would prefer they'd never been found at all. If it was so, he did not speak it, only whispering into Sansa’s ear.

He approached them, feeling uncomfortable and, perhaps, even unwanted. This reunion was not as he imagined, embracing them both to the sound of Sansa’s tears as she called him her knight who'd come to their rescue. “We tried so hard to find some trace of you. Bran and mother insisted, almost every day, you were still alive,” he said, voice brittle. “Are you not the least bit pleased to see me?” This time, his voice broke.

Robb wasn’t sure if it was guilt or pleasure but Sansa released their cousin and finally came to him. He pulled her close before drawing her up off her feet. She hesitated slightly before putting her arms around his neck. Her skin felt warm.

“More than pleased. It was a bit of a shock for us, that’s all. We haven’t seen anyone in…” She trailed off.

“Four years, Sansa, it’s been four years or near enough.” Jon’s expression was solemn and cold.

“Has it been so long?” Sansa took his hand, pulling him closer to their cousin. “Jon, think on all we dreamed of together. Home with our three towers.” Winterfell had more than three towers but Robb did not correct her.

“Aye, home.” The little girl Jon held in his arms suddenly pulled away to stare at him. Robb had his first opportunity to truly see her, she’d been burrowed away in his neck before, afraid of him he supposed. He quickly noticed the hair and eyes but it was the long face that gave him chills. She was a babe but there was no mistaking who sired her. “You have a child,” he gasped.

“We have a child,” Sansa corrected, stepping closer to Jon. It looked to Robb as if she was prepared to guard him from attack.

“Her name is Lyanna, after my mother,” said Jon defensively. Another Stark woman men fought a war over.

Robb took in the three people before him as understanding slowly grew. Jon had put a bastard in his little sister. It was a family he’d come upon, two parents ready to protect their frightened babe. He searched for something to say, an answer to give. “Lyanna will be even more beautiful than her mother.” A bastard child, he still reeled over the discovery. Robb wondered what his mother would make of it.

“She already is,” Sansa said with her mother’s pride. “Lyanna, do you want to meet your uncle?”

“No.”

Jon passed the child to Sansa. “Don’t be offended, that’s the only word she knows.”

“Can’t blame her, I’m quite ugly.”

Tension left Jon’s body. He was as much changed as Sansa. His skin was sun-kissed and his hair an unruly mass. His chest and arms were muscled in a way that made Robb think of the field laborers around Winterfell. Jon’s choice of clothes were as equally worthy of scandal as Sansa’s. “How did you find us?”

“Luck.” There was no other word for it. “I was sailing north from King’s Landing. We knew your ship went down somewhere close so I asked the captain to sail east for a few days. This was the last day before we returned to our original course. The gods led me to you. How have you survived here for so long?” A strip of land in the middle of a great ocean, Robb would never have believed it.

Sansa’s expression turned prideful. “We took care of each other. Do you want to see?”

“No, not unless they stay behind,” Jon said stubbornly, indicating Robb’s escort. “We don’t know them.”

Robb did as instructed, leaving his men to wait for him on the beach before following Jon as they disappeared into the trees. Once they lost themselves in the trees, Sansa placed Lyanna on the ground, taking her little hand into her own. “I was frightened in the beginning but Jon never was. He’s kept us safe all this time, even when the Ironborn came.”

That stunned him. “The Ironborn were here? What did you do?”

“Two years ago, perhaps. They were looking for Sansa so I sent them on a goose chase.”

Sansa laughed. “And then came to my rescue.”

“They attacked the north, all along our western shoreline.” Their father died defending it but Robb decided to keep that piece of news to himself, at least for awhile longer.

“I was right then.”

“I never doubted you, Jon. We trust each other.”

“Aye, we do.” Jon drew up next to her, stroking the small of Sansa’s back before glancing at him, guiltily, and releasing her. “I kept her off the beach for a good while after but they never came back again.”

“You have a house.” Robb’s mouth fell open in surprise. It was a simple one, not so very different than what the poorest of their small folk lived in.

“Jon built it for me.” He searched for the correct word to describe the emotion he heard in her voice. Devotion, Robb realized. She spoke with devotion. “He hunted and made sure we had food and water too.”

“Sansa,” Jon said sharply.

“Well, you did. He should know, everyone should know.” She was defending him for his sake, Robb knew it.

“We took care of each other, that’s all that matters,” Jon replied, soothingly.

“No, Jon. Show him your sword. You kept your vows, show him,” she pleaded.

Robb felt uncomfortable, he didn’t belong. Awkwardly, he dropped to his knees in the hope of drawing his niece’s attention. Her eyes drew big from fear and she crept towards her mother. Quiet tears began to fall down her cheeks. Sansa absently picked her daughter up to stroke her hair and kiss along her brow. Robb stood apart from the three of them. They were a family and he was a threat.

Jon focused on him briefly but spoke to her. “I kept my vows to you, it was all the others I broke.”

Their daughter started to cry, ending the conversation between the two of them. “I’ll make them see, I promise you.” There was a ferocity to Sansa he never heard before. Robb remembered the sweet, dutiful girl he once knew and his discomfort grew.

Sansa ignored him to sit on the earth with her daughter in her arms. Lyanna calmed as Sansa began to coo and sing, laying her on the ground. She picked up the babe’s feet, blowing kisses on them before bringing them to her cheek and nose and eye. The girl squealed with joy over her mother’s antics.

“Lyanna has never seen anyone but us, she’ll learn not be to be frightened of you in time.”

Robb wondered if they would do the same. “I’m not bothered.”

“She's a good mother, Robb. Everything I could have wished for.” Jon spoke longingly. He sensed his cousin was sending him another message too, a warning not to take her child away. “If we go with you, you won’t be separating us. Lyanna and her mother have not slept apart from me for one night and we won’t start now. They’ll need me, both of them.” It was a warning then for certain, there could be no mistaking it.

Ned Stark once brought a motherless child home to Winterfell, risking a king’s wrath to do so. Robb wondered if he would guide him to do as Jon demanded. He would never know. “I won’t separate you. My cabin is the largest, you can take it.” It would not be so easy in Winterfell, they were still unwed and Sansa had borne a bastard girl. This was a possibility Robb never considered. “What did you swear to her?”

Jon’s eyes flashed before a shine took them as he watched his sister at play with their daughter. “Everything. I swore everything.” His face softened and a smile took him, the first Robb had seen. “You should be warned, Sansa is not the girl you once knew.”

“I can tell.”

He snorted. “No, I don’t think you do.”

“Will you two sit down?” she asked, impatient. “I want to know of Winterfell.”

Jon quickly did as asked, coming to rest closer to Sansa by the larger of the two fire pits. He stuck his tongue out at his daughter as she began to walk towards him, stumbling and falling once. “Do you want to learn about Winterfell, little one?”

“No.”

“Lyanna wants you to tell us.” She collapsed into his lap. “Say yes.”

“No.” More girlish squeals.

“Stannis Baratheon is king now and I am a married man.” That drew their attention.

“What?"

“What?”

“King Robert died and his brother declared himself for the throne, claiming Cersei’s children were bastards born of incest.”

“Were they?” Sansa asked.

“Jaime Lannister confessed just before his execution.”

“Gods,” she gasped. “I was to be wed to Joffrey.”

“He’s dead,” Robb said. “By my hand when we took King’s Landing. He died...honorably.” Joffrey was a tyrant who died sniveling and smelling of piss but Sansa had been betrothed to him once. “His sister was given to the Faith and his brother to the Citadel.”

“The Lannisters killed Robert and his youngest brother, Renly, to try and seize the throne and four of the kingdoms rose against them. Still, it was a close thing if not for the power of the Reach. I wed Margaery Tyrell for their support. It was our mother that arranged it.” Catelyn Stark met Lord Petyr Baelish on the rose road as a representative of the Lannisters. He often thought on the story she whispered to him, he’d never spoken it aloud. His mother had been in Littlefinger’s tent to convince him to join Stannis’ cause when a shadow appeared. The man was dead seconds later. She claimed the shadow was in the shape of their king. Robb did not know what to believe.

“Do you love her?”

Margaery was pretty enough, perhaps as much as Sansa. “She has been a good wife. We met almost six months ago. I married her and left days later for battle. She’s in Highgarden now, mourning the death of her father and will come north in another moon’s turn or so.” No, he did not love her. Robb freed the Riverlands from the Lannisters then rode south to marry before laying siege to King’s Landing.They were strangers still and it was the warm arms of Janina that Robb thought of during his time at war.

“What of Winterfell?”

Robb was not sure how to answer Sansa’s question. He thought of Arya’s quiet anger and Rickon’s anguished cries. “The loss of you both was very dearly felt, mother especially struggled. I lack the words to convey how this news will be received.” It would give their mother something else to live for, he knew that. “I have clothes for you both. No dresses but something,” he paused, searching for the correct word. “Suitable can be found.”

“There we go, Sansa, you’ll get your wish. I’ll be good and proper now.” It was a jape, yet underneath Robb heard a trace of wistfulness. Or disappointment. “We should ready to go.”

Neither moved and a silence came over them all, thick and heavy. Above, birds chirped and a breeze lifted the strands of Sansa’s hair. He struggled for some word of comfort but it felt like he owed them an apology. For what, Robb was not quite sure. “My men will wait.”

“I thought we could say goodbye first,” she said breathlessly. Robb thought she might cry soon. He wondered who she meant to say goodbye too. “Jon, can we not say our farewells to our knight and whispering waters and our trees?”

“No. We alway knew this would come.” The tears came then, one and then the other falling down her cheek. Sansa’s body began to shake. Jon stared at him accusingly. “We have each other.”

“Our house…."

“Will lay in wait for who comes next. Remember?” Jon pulled her close and whispered into her ear. Robb could not hear what he spoke but he knew the actions of a lover. Jon kissed the tears from her eyes. “It was luck the first time, my love. Imagine your mother and Maester Luwin with you in Winterfell.”

“Are you ill?” He asked Sansa.

“No, she isn’t.”

They spoke more but Robb kept silent through it all. If they wished to mourn, he would not deny them. Lyanna sat perched on her father’s knee, peering at him curiously. The earlier fear seemed to be gone which he felt grateful for. Sansa’s bastard daughter, Robb thought, fathered by the man he made promise to protect and keep her safe. Only a king could legitimize a bastard but Stannis sat the throne because of the north. If Robb had not called his banners, he would still be on Dragonstone, alone and without allies.

Her crying ceased and Sansa rose. It took them only a few minutes, they had almost no possessions, only a small trunk and the sword he’d once asked Mikken to make for Jon. It was only there at Sansa’s insistence.

He was a craven. Sansa asked of Winterfell and Robb only mentioned their mother. He’d said nothing of Theon’s escape or their father. This was the reunion he’d dreamed of yet it brought no one joy. “Winterfell has changed while you were gone,” he said. “The Ironborn attacked the north and our father went to lead the attack.”

Slowly, Robb told the tale and Sansa wept once more. It was Jon’s arms she went to for comfort, not his. Little Lyanna, sensing her mother’s pain, soon demanded her attention, until, once more, the family of three stood alone in their grief.

*****

It was only the third night on Robb’s ship and Jon knew something needed to be done. Both his wife and child were sick. Neither of them ate much, and what little they did was soon wretched up. Lyanna was frightened over all the changes and had clung desperately to her mother the first day. The ship with all its men and activities were a new experience and one she did not understand. Sansa was consumed by grief and fear, made all the worse with her pregnancy.

Their fate was largely in Robb’s hands now and Jon greatly misliked it. There was no mistaking his cousin’s discomfort at seeing the two of them together. He’d also noticed the flash of horror crossing Robb’s face when he first understood who Lyanna was. She was their daughter, loved in every way, but to the world and to Robb, she was as much a bastard as he was.

“Jon, my milk is drying up,” Sansa cried. “What will we do?”

“Stop giving her suck, she’s a year old.” It pained him to tell her. Sansa was not yet ready to wean.

Lyanna lay in her mother’s arms where she’d eventually fallen to an exhausted sleep, spent from tears and an empty stomach. She stroked their daughter’s hair before kissing along her brow. Sansa’s skin was sallow. “How many more days do you think?”

Too many, Jon thought. “At least another sennight, possibly more. Will you rest while I fetch some water for you?”

“I’m frightened,” she whispered, her voice shaky and weak.

“Do not be,” he reassured. Jon was too, but he kept that hidden. “They will not separate us, I promise. I won’t leave you.” Unless she wished it. He was not such a fool to not realize that was a possibility. Sansa loved him while they lived on the island, lost from the world. In Winterfell, surrounded by their family, it was possible she would feel differently.

“Hurry.”

“I will.” He kissed one cheek and then the other before closing the door to their cabin to make his way to Robb.

Jon knocked and quickly entered after hearing Robb’s greeting. His cousin sat at a small desk, with a quill and parchment in hand. He did not ask the subject of his letters, Jon suspected he knew.

“Sansa and our child are ill. How far is the nearest harbor?”

“Perhaps a few days until Gulltown.”

Jon did not intend to wait three days. “Claw Isle is closer. Can we request assistance from House Celtigar?” He considered how best to explain. Their fears were for them alone. “Sansa’s milk is almost gone. We need a goat for Lyanna.”

“Goat’s milk?” He asked, confused. “A nurse maid would be easier on board a ship.”

He shook his head. “No. Lyanna is sick and a strange woman would terrify her. Goat’s milk will do and I can tend to the animal.” Sansa would be terrified, he knew that as well. A ready nurse maid would make it easier for Robb to take away her child. “We will need a few day’s rest so they can recover. The journey is wearing on them both.” Neither of them had spoken of Sansa’s condition yet, agreeing to do so without so much as a word passing between the two of them.

Robb looked pained. “I will speak to the captain.” Jon pitied him. His cousin had been almost a brother and his closest companion. He still loved him, only he loved his wife and child more. Robb hesitated. “May I ask you a question?”

“Of course.” That did not mean Jon would answer.

“On the beach when I first saw you both, I noticed you spoke to Sansa before she would approach me. Can I ask what you told her?”

Jon sighed, deciding to be honest. “I told you of the Ironborn. In case they returned, or any other danger, we had a plan to escape and hide. We know every tree and blade of grass, no one would find us unless we wished it. I reminded her.” After that long ago night, Jon had prepared in case they would ever need to make use of it.

Robb stiffened. “Am I a danger to you?”

“We hope not.” He slumped in his chair. Jon softened his tone before continuing. “I know what we must seem. Your innocent sister and the bastard who broke his promise to you and got her with child. Forgive me, but you no longer know your sister. Sansa told you the truth of what I did in caring for her but what she left off is that she’s the stronger of the two of us. I rescued her from a burning ship but she’s the one that saved our lives.”

“She was a highborn maiden.” There was something to the way Robb spoke that made him wonder. It was as if Robb was challenging him or wanting Jon to explain further. It was not accusatory, there was no anger.

“Aye, she was,” he acknowledged before continuing, “and she’s still highborn and still a Lady. You think I seduced her, is that it? As I said, you don’t know her. Sansa makes her own choices.”

“Are you in love?” This was the question Robb had been leading towards.

“Yes,” he said flatly. “It’s no passing fancy, please believe that. I promise you, she feels the same.”

“I believe you.” The man looked miserable, however. “What about after you return to Winterfell?”

The question Jon did not want to consider. It was easy for Sansa to love him away from the world. Would she feel the same in Winterfell, in the arms of her mother and her siblings all around? “My feelings for her will not change, I know. Do you intend to keep us apart?”

He paused. “No,” he said simply. The answer was the one Jon hoped for but he’d have preferred for Robb not to have delayed in giving it.

He was tempted to say nothing else and return to Sansa. “May I offer you a suggestion?”

“Please.”

Jon’s eyes narrowed, unsure how to interpret that. “You were her hero, the one who never thought her silly or stupid, the one who always sought to make her happy. Perhaps consider being that for her again.” Silence. “Good night, Robb.”

He left his cousin alone and hurried back to Sansa and their child. They were both asleep, Lyanna curled up in her mother’s arms. Jon sat in the chair by their bed, keeping watch.

“I love you,” he said to the quiet room. “I’ll still love you in Winterfell.” He wished she were awake to repeat the words back to him.

  
  
  
  
  



	23. Chapter 23

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is 3500 words exactly and I'm probably more excited by that than I should be. Also, I did my best with an Arya POV, not sure I quite got it right. This should be less angsty than the last chapter, I'm not in a horribly angsty mood.

Sansa remembered her time in White Harbor four years ago. She’d found it an enchanting experience, with an elegant feast and singers to entertain. There had been a mummer’s show and a court filled with knights and ladies. Sansa had thought her song began the day she boarded _The White Wolf_. She had been right. She was married to a bastard, mother to another, and had a secret hidden in her belly. It was a song with more magic and beauty than even she could have thought possible.

“It will only be two days.” His fingers stroked the inside of her palm. “How do you feel?”

“Better. It was only the sea travel, Jon.”  Sansa has been ill all throughout the entire voyage. He’d insisted they stop for a couple days in Gulltown so she and Lyanna could rest in one of its many inns. They’d both misliked the city, it was loud and filled with too many people. “Two days is a very long time if you will not be with us.”  

He pulled her close and Sansa burrowed into his neck. Jon meant to comfort her as best he could, she knew that. It was not enough though, nothing from the very moment Robb found them on the beach had gone as she’d imagined it. “I’ll be with you.”

“In a different room and not during the nights.” Robb had done this, she’d wager Winterfell on that. Sansa had seen little of her brother in the time since they’d first set sail but it was his decision. The previous day, Jon announced their sleeping arrangements while in White Harbor and nothing she’d said would sway him. It was not mere chance he’d told her after speaking to Robb, no matter how much Jon insisted.

“Robb is waiting for us. We should go.” He’d not responded, as Sansa had known he would not.

She picked up their daughter before leaving the miserable cabin room behind. It smelled of illness and contained little in the way of pleasant memories.

Sansa set forth to visit the Merman’s court for the second time, with a husband she had yet to wed and a bastard child in her arms. It took her little time to realize the stay in New Castle would not be a pleasant one. She was a curiosity, an oddity for the members of the Manderly court. Sansa heard the whispers and saw the subtle glaces. The Lady Leona presented her with one of her daughter’s gowns. A gift she called it, but Sansa knew it was from a dislike of the brown wool she wore, a dress more suited for a serving girl. After the first day passed, Sansa elected to stay in her own rooms with only Lyanna for company. She saw little of Jon, who kept himself hidden away from her, other than the occasional stolen visit to see their daughter. The misery in her heart only seemed to grow.

Later, as they slowly rode a barge north on the White Knife, Sansa told Jon of her experiences, the hidden glances and unsubtle questions about Lyanna. His face grew pained as he’d begged her forgiveness. “I hoped to spare you as much of it as I could,” he’d said to her and she understood then. Whether or not Robb asked him or not made no matter, Jon knew what she would be confronted with. She’d grown up as the eldest Stark daughter while he was the bastard boy, hidden away in the north. Sansa loved him all the more, yet his effort to spare her pain failed. It felt as if Jon told her to keep breathing even as he ripped her heart from her body.

Their strength lay in each other and as they prepared to cross through the gates of Winterfell, dread fell through her once more. Her time in White Harbor was a fresh memory still. Sansa could picture Jeyne Poole and Beth Cassel whispering together, only their talk would be about her. Robb was disappointed, she already knew that. Arya would be angry with her, it was Jon she had once been closest too. Now though, Jon loved her and they had a child together. Try as she might, Sansa could not guess what her mother would do. Sansa refused to think on Margaery Tyrell at all, her brother’s new bride who had yet to make her way north.

It was as they took their first steps onto the castle grounds and Sansa saw her family once more that she felt the familiar slide of callused skin against her palm, so quick no one would notice, and a whispered, “Three towers, my love.” She glanced at him, he looked a man determined, brave. They were a family, and she was brave too, for Jon and Lyanna and the child still growing in her. Three towers, Sansa thought, and stepped forward to meet her family once more.

It was the sudden quiet in the courtyard she noticed first. The entire household waited for them, to greet Lord Stark and his family once more. Then Sansa heard her mother’s cry and felt her soft arms and a sob escaped her.

Catelyn Stark stroked her hair and cupped her cheek. “Sansa, you came home to us.” Her voice was brittle and her eyes had a shine to them that Sansa knew were reflected in her own. “We never gave up and now my daughter stands before us again.”

She loved Jon dearly but there was a comfort she would only ever find in her mother’s embrace. It was a bliss Sansa had not experienced in many years and she did not want to leave. Around her, she heard activities and the mutterings of conversation but she paid all of it no mind. “We never gave up either. I dreamed of you.” Sansa deliberately chose to include Jon and their child when speaking.

“You are home again and with your family. My sweet girl is home,” she murmured, so soothingly it stirred memories of her mother comforting her as a young girl.

Sansa pulled away and shifted Lyanna to her hip. Worry came to her. Please, she silently begged, love her, please.  “Do you want to meet your granddaughter?”

Catelyn Stark’s smile grew slightly strained but Sansa could not spy shame or horror or any similar emotion, as much as she tried. “She has our hair.” She stroked her babe’s bright auburn curls. “And our eyes.”

“Her name is Lyanna.” Named after his mother, but she not speak that part.

“That is...that is a good, northern name.”

For the first time, Sansa looked about. Jon was mussing Arya’s hair and laughing. Bran drew both of them into his arms and told her he dreamed it, he knew she was alive. The only awkwardness came from Rickon.

Her youngest brother had grown agitated to see them both, staring at Jon before bursting out, “You’re not him.” Then, he turned to Robb and asked, “If they stopped being dead, why can’t father?”

Sansa heard her mother gasp and Arya telling their brother to shut up. Jon said nothing at all. She hurt for him but did not know what comfort to give, not with so many eyes on them. It was Robb who took Rickon in hand, picking their brother up and carrying him away.

“Your room is just as you left it. Shall we go?” Her mother took her elbow, guiding her away, towards the Great Keep.

Sansa glanced behind her to see Jon, alone. He smiled then, a smile so small and tentative, she almost missed it. He did not follow. Her mother spoke true, Sansa’s chambers were as she last saw it. The few gowns that remained to her were there as well, even though she’d long outgrown them. Her dressing table contained a new brush and several hair pins.

“We will have new dresses made for you, in whatever colors you like best.”

“Lyanna will need some too. We had little for her to wear.” Sansa pictured them in matching dresses, enjoying the idea of it.

“We can do that,” her mother said tightly. “We can have the nursery readied for her.”

“No,” she answered sharply. “She’s never slept apart from me. Are you going to take her away?” Sansa did not think her family would be so cruel but she’d heard stories, terrible stories, of other noble women and their fates after birthing a child while unmarried.

“My daughter was lost to me once. I would never do the same to another mother.” Sansa let go of the breath she’d not realized she was holding, it was the fierceness in her mother’s voice that reassured her as much as the words she spoke. “Sansa, I must ask, did he...did he force himself on you?”

“Never,” she hastened to respond. “Jon saved my life, not once, but many times. I am only here because of him.” She felt uncomfortable, not able to explain how the love between them grew. It was an experience only the two of them could ever understand, she knew. “Would you like to hold your granddaughter?” She asked instead.

Her mother reached out, taking Lyanna into her arms. The babe let out a happy gurgle when Catelyn Stark tickled her feet. Her mother sat in a chair. “She will be as beautiful as you someday.” Lyanna’s tiny hands wiped at the wetness on her grandmother’s cheeks. “Will you tell me what what happened?”

Sansa did as they passed the remainder of the day together. That night, she waited for Jon to come visit her, even if only for a little while, but he did not appear.

*****

Arya was glad to have Jon back, truly she was, even Sansa too. It was not the same as it was before, when he would spend time talking with her or taking her out for horse riding in the wolfswood. Now, he went to go see the little girl a few times a day and spoke to Robb too but he refused to tell her the reason why. Before, Arya would never have thought there could be secrets between the two of them. But, that was before he got lost and had a bastard girl with Sansa.

Today, Jon promised to spend time teaching her to use a sword and she looked forward to it. They were hidden away in the old lichyard where no one could find them.

“You will find me a poor teacher, Arya. It’s been many years since I held steel in my hands.” She did not think so, Jon held his sword with confidence. Arya liked the way he twirled the pommel in his hands.

After, as he wiped the sweat from his brow, she pondered the rumors of him that were whispered about. “Are you going to leave Winterfell again?”

He stilled and his face grew solemn. “Why do you ask me that?”

“I heard it from servants.” Arya practiced creeping and moving without being seen, she was becoming quite good at it.

“I’m not a Stark, Arya. Staying at Winterfell forever was never a choice for me. It’s one of the reasons your father sent me south with Sansa.” Arya remembered that quite well, she’d been angry at her sister for taking away the person who loved her most of all.

“Will Sansa and Robb make you leave?” It could not be her mother, she hardly spoke to Jon at all.

He sighed. “I’ll do what Sansa asks of me, but not like you think.” Jon lay his sword on the ground before scratching at his beard. “We have a child together and if Sansa wants us to be a family somewhere else, then that’s what we will do. If she wants to stay in Winterfell, then I will stay, as long as she wants me too.”

Arya understood, her sister could make him leave again. “What if she wants you to go away?”

“She won’t.” Arya knew Jon, or at least she did once. He was not as sure as he pretended to be. “Your sister and I are in love and I’m sorry that hurts you. You’ll alway be my favorite sister though, as long as you’ll have me.” He sat on the ground before indicating her to follow.

“She doesn’t like me.”

He laughed. “I think you will find Sansa a different person than you once knew. Do you remember once, asking me if you were a bastard too? Her reception in White Harbor before returning to Winterfell, it was a painful one. All the north knows her shame, perhaps all of  the seven kingdoms.” His smile turned to a grimace then. “I did that to her,” he said guiltily.

Arya patted his shoulder comfortingly. “Did you tell her stories about knights and ladies until she swooned at your feet?”

Jon smile. “You aren’t completely wrong,” he said. “I learned quite a few stories from Sansa.”

“I missed you.”

He mussed her hair, like he always used too. “I missed you too, little sister. Go see Sansa, you might find yourself enjoying it.”

So Arya did, deciding to enter her sister’s chambers without announcing herself first. It was possible she would find her sister doing something she should not. Arya doubted it though, Sansa was always good.

“Arya,” her sister gasped. “I was not expecting you.” She was sitting in a chair next to her bed, with some fabric piece in her hand. Arya knew she would be, her sister was always sewing.

“Jon said I should visit.”

“That was kind of him.”

“That’s very pretty,” she said, pointing at the cloth in her sister’s hands. She thought Sansa would like that.

“It’s for Jon. It took me four years to make this but I swore I would, one day.”

“That’s nice.” Arya was not sure she agreed, Jon never cared for the pretty things Sansa made. “Could you tell me some of what happened while you were gone?”

Her sister gave a conspiratorial smile. “I think you would have liked our island. Did you know towards the end, I barely wore a scrap of clothing?”

Arya felt envious. Their mother insisted she wore dresses. “I would like to have seen that.”

“I fell in mud more than once and I used to pick walnuts until my hands were stained brown.”

“Are you going to make Jon leave us?” She asked abruptly. This was what worried Arya most.

Sansa laid her stitching into her basket. “Why would you ask me that?”

“Jon says you wouldn’t but I didn’t believe him.”

“I see.” Her face was stricken. “I love him very much and I’m sorry if that hurts you.” Jon told her much the same, Arya thought to herself. She hadn’t decided if she believed them yet though. “It terrifies me that he may leave.”

“If you love each other, how come you aren’t married?”

Arya thought Sansa would cry then, it would be pretty tears. Sansa always cried pretty. “We can not do so without Robb’s permission.”

“Why not?”

“I don’t know.” Sansa started to laugh, Arya was not sure what she’d said that was so funny. “May I ask a great favor of you?”

“I won’t do any stupid sewing.”

“No, not that. Will you watch Lyanna for me? She only just fell asleep and I won’t be gone long.”

Arya did not know anything about babies. “If she wakes up, I’ll bring her to our mother.”

“She won’t, I promise.” Her sister dashed from the room before Arya could reply.

She picked up the piece of silk her sister once held. It was a mostly completed white wolf.

*****

Sansa knew there were only so many places he could be. Jon was not in his chambers or the training yard, so she stepped past the old iron gate into the godswood. As expected, his boots, tunic, and other items of clothing lay scattered under the heart tree.

“Come down and speak with me,” she called out.

The tree branches above her shook and the leaves rustled. Jon dropped down, appearing only a couple paces away. “How did you know I was up there?”

“As far away from everyone as you could be.”

Jon smiled lovingly. “You do know me. There are people everywhere here and so much noise. I don’t like it."

“Nor I.”

“Where’s Lyanna?”

“Arya agreed to watch her for me so I could find you.”

Jon nodded, pleased. “That is good.” He sat at the base of the tree, patting the space next to him.

She followed. “Why did you remove so much of your clothes?” He wore only his breeches.

“It itches and rubs at my skin. I felt ridiculous when you put those damned skirts on me, now I miss them.”

“As do I,”  she said, giggling before growing serious. “Why have you not come to see me?”

“I have.”

“No, you come to see your daughter,” she corrected. “Not a single night and when you do come, you play with her and then leave. We’ve been back for days and days. What have I done?”

“Nothing. Gods, Sansa, nothing at all.” He put his arm around her, drawing her close. Jon’s skin was warm against her cheek. “How could you ask that of me?”

“How could I not? We swore, Jon, yet you have avoided me since we crossed through the castle walls.”

“You have done the same. You are with your mother much of the time and you rarely leave your rooms.”

“Our household gossips about me and I see them staring at Lyanna. I saw Beth Cassel and Jeyne Poole laughing together. They were my friends once.” It was painful. Sansa used to be the prized daughter, secure in her position. Jeyne and Beth were her closest friends. In truth, she considered them children now.

“I’m sorry.” Jon pressed his lips to her brow, an offer of comfort. “It’s to be expected, after what I did to you.”

“Your guilt shames me more than anything we may have done. Do you regret us?” Sansa did not, and once, she would have been confident Jon felt the same.

“Never. Do you know what I want?”

She did. “To go back to our island or to our castle with the three towers.”

“Aye.” Jon laughed.

“Do you want to marry me?”

He turned to look at her and Sansa saw only love. “I’ve spoken to Robb of it. He puts me off, asking to give you time, to make sure it is what you want.”

“You won’t convince him.” She would need to do it. Sansa had been avoiding Robb since he found them. The memory of his expression on the beach as he noticed Lyanna, the blend of horror and disappointment, was still with her. Sansa loved her brother but she could not quite forgive him for it, not so soon. “It must be me. He will agree, I swear it.”

Jon laughed. “I’ve told him several times that he no longer knows you. It appears he will soon.”

“Is that a compliment?”

He pulled her onto his lap so she sat astride him. “I love you.” Then he was kissing her, hungry kisses.

Sansa returned each one, putting her hands on his shoulders and clinging desperately. She felt his hands under her skirts, slowly moving up her legs.

He broke the kiss, his breath ragged. “May I?”

Sansa nodded unable to speak, choosing to untie his breeches instead. She felt Jon pulling at her small clothes and then, quickly, he entered her with a strained grunt. They moved together as their kisses grew gentle and loving.

After, she stayed in his arms as their breathing slowed. Sansa was not yet ready to leave the comfort of his embrace.

“We probably should not have done that where we could have been so easily discovered,” he said. “It wasn’t very proper of us.”

“Bugger proper.”

“Sansa,” he said, shocked. She could not recall using that particular word before. “Bugger proper.” Jon grinned and kissed her once more.

She waited two days before speaking with Robb. She dressed carefully, in one of the new gowns made for her. They were Stark colors but with an addition she’d made in secret. Her hair was carefully arranged, in a style often worn by married, northern women. It was plain, with the top braided and all of it worn down her back, brushed smooth.

Sansa made her way to his solar where she knew her brother would be. Deliberately, she did not knock or wait to be granted entrance. She did not want to give him even that short amount of time to prepare himself.

She approached him where he sat, at his writing table with a quill in hand. Robb dropped it, surprised. “Sansa, I wasn’t expecting you.” He rose to offer her a chair. “Is something wrong?”

She did not answer him. “We have much to speak of.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next up, Sansa and Robb go to battle and we get a Cat POV.


	24. Chapter 24

“We have much to speak of.” Sansa did not explain further, stroking the sash hidden under her cloak to feel the wolf’s outline. It gave her strength.

Her brother chose to sit in the chair opposite from her rather than returning to his desk, she noticed. This would be a discussion amongst family rather than one between a lord and his subject, although she was not certain how much of a distinction lay between the two.

“Yes, we do.” He spoke plainly, with no inflection in his voice. Robb’s jaw clenched but it was from trepidation, not anger, she realized. The clothing he wore could easily have been taken from their father’s wardrobe. She glanced behind him to his desk. Heaps of parchment were stacked on it, for what purpose Sansa did not know.

She considered her next words carefully. Sansa had come prepared to beg and cajole, to threaten even, if it should come to that. She studied Robb’s lips, they were flat but he was not frowning. He was a man who smiled little and laughed even less, none of it from choice. Robb’s life the past four years had been one of grief and war. For her and Jon, they’d lived a life filled with love and family. “Did Jon tell you of the time I was sick and he comforted me with tales of Winterfell?” Childbirth was close to sickness, she thought. It was enough for her purposes. “He told me of one jape the two of you played on Rodrik Cassel.”

His eyes lit up, the blue more apparent. “I remember that. We blamed it on Theon Greyjoy, he would not speak to me for days after.”

“It was our faith in home that gave us strength when we needed it most.” That home was not always Winterfell, it was the castle they built and the future they longed for too, but she did not tell Robb that.

He hesitated. “And now that you are home?” Robb was not certain of her answer, probably suspected she felt some disappointment to be back in Winterfell. He was not entirely wrong.

“Our mother has taken to Lyanna quite strongly, even more than I hoped for. Our daughter struggles some though, the nights are most difficult.” Arya came to visit her niece every day now too, she would love being an aunt in time, Sansa thought. Still, Lyanna noticed her father’s absence at night the most. Sansa did as well, she missed his rough hands resting on her and the scrape of his beard against her skin, she missed his whispered good night before they drifted off to sleep together. Life here in Winterfell could not continue as it was.

“What of you?”

“I struggle, Robb, and I ache. Our reunion was not as either of us wanted. To be honest, I was frightened of you. It was easy for us, to forget who we were  and all that it meant. To see you again, I confronted it all at once.” She stroked her sash, felt the wolf once more. “Was it Lord Stark who found us or was it my dear brother Robb?”

He bowed his head, hiding from her. “It was only me.”

“For the longest time, we struggled for food every day and had no shelter at all. We sat huddled under trees when the rain came.” It was only twice, until she made their stupid hovel. “I wished for you then, to come and save us. Jon thought of you as well, he tried so very hard to be all that you expected him to be.” She paused, telling herself to be brave, for Jon and Lyanna, and for the babe still growing in her. “You came and saved us, Robb, but, I still need my brother.”

“You’re asking to marry him?”

“I’m ruined in the eyes of the north, probably in all the seven kingdoms.”

His head snapped up. “Never say that again,” he said fiercely. “I cannot stop what is said elsewhere but here in Winterfell, you’ll never hear so much as a whisper, I promise you.”

This was her brother. Robb would give her what she wished for. “Jon and I want to marry. Can you give me that?”

“He’s quite fond of reminding me how little I know you.” Robb gave a half-smile, it was a sad one. “I wasn’t trying to keep you apart.”

“I did not think that was so.” She understood now.

“He’ll always be a bastard, Sansa. We both know Stannis will never legitimize him, not with who his father is.”

“I know.” Her daughter was a bastard as well.

“He can never be a great lord, it would offend my other bannerman. They would see it as a reward for getting you with child.”

“I know that too.”

“The Sansa I once knew would not have said that.” There it was, Robb did not know how to please the girl she’d once been.

“She grew up, as did you.”

“There are days I wish I’d gotten lost with the two of you.” She drew back at this confession, that was unexpected. Robb continued, unnoticing of her surprise, “Gods, Sansa, I would never force you two apart, if it was what you truly wanted. What have I done to make you think that?” His voice broke as he asked the question.

Sansa wiped her eyes and threw herself at him. “Nothing.” She felt his arms around her as he stood.

“There’s a small holdfast, three days ride from Winterfell. The lord is an old man with no heirs and the maesters expect this year to be his last. Perhaps it is wrong to plan for his death, but his land and income will pass to Jon. It’s a masterly house, of a rank with the Glovers and Tallharts, but sworn to Winterfell.”

Sansa took a breath as she struggled to understand. It was more than she hoped for. “Robb...I...thank you.” She understood his choice, it was inconsequential enough so Jon could not be considered a threat or considered to have been given a reward.

“When do you want to marry?”

As soon as a bridal cloak could be made. “I have a confession, something Jon and I have kept to ourselves.”

“Did you marry in secret?” He asked, aghast.

“No.” For them, they were already married. A ceremony was for others, not for them. “We discovered it only a couple days before you found us. I’m with child and will not be able to hide it for much longer.”

“Fucking hell.” He released her to rake his fingers through his hair. “A fortnight then.”

“Don’t be angry with him.”

“I’m your older brother, I’m allowed to get a bit angry.” She could hear only the smallest trace of it in his tone though. “Jon proved himself correct though, you make your own decisions, elsewise, I’d be tempted to challenge him in the training yard.”

“But you won’t.”

“No, I won’t.” Robb grinned, amused. “I might threaten it a time or two, though. Fairly certain he’s been expecting it since the two of you came home. Plan your wedding, Sansa, and make your cloak.”

“Thank you.”

“Will you stay for awhile and talk with me or do you need to return to your daughter?”

“Lyanna is with our mother. Shall I tell you of Jon’s feud with the geese? If you wish for revenge, get a set of goslings for Winterfell.”

His face lit with pleasure and amusement. “Oh, tell me, I beg you.”

*****

Jon sat on the floor, choosing to keep some distance from the hearth, with Arya across from him. Lyanna raced between the two of them, launching herself at him with a girlish squeal before repeating the process with his cousin. The rest of the family sat nearby, quietly engaged in conversation, except for Rickon who seemed rather bored.

Sansa had met with Robb early that day, running to him with her news afterwards. Jon still reeled over it, wondering how she convinced him. A fortnight and they would be wedded in the eyes of everyone else. It meant sharing a bed once more, but to Jon, Sansa was already his wife in every way that mattered.

“She loves you, Arya.”

“I am a very good aunt.” Lyanna fell into her arms. “Say Arya. Arya.” She stretched each word, hoping her niece would imitate them.

“Bob.”

“No, not Robb. Arya.”

“Bob.”

It was his turn. Jon almost fell back as his daughter landed on him. “Robb is an easier word. You're her favorite aunt.”

“We will keep it that way.” Margaery Tyrell was due to arrive within a moon’s turn. There was little excitement over it, at least none that Jon had noticed so far. It made him pity Robb.

Jon glanced towards Sansa where she sat next to her mother. She smiled at him, it was a loving smile. Robb would be announcing their betrothal soon, he knew. He wondered what the Lady Catelyn would think of it. She had not been cold to him since they returned but she had kept her distance. Her presence had made it difficult for him to speak with Sansa alone, he suspected it was deliberate. Jon would not care at all, but he knew Sansa would.

“I have news to share.” Robb spoke loudly, in an effort to stop conversation in the room. It grew quiet, other than Rickon who played on, unaware.

“Rickon, hush up,” Arya said, leaving him to quiet her younger brother.

Jon felt his stomach twist in knots. It was one thing to know they could marry, it was quite another to have five sets of blue eyes staring at him curiously. Lyanna feel into his arms, not leaving. She looked up at him, before yawning as her lids slowly drifted shut. Jon cradled her as he stood, in search of a nearby chair.

“Go to sleep, sweet one.Your father has you.” Jon bent down to kiss her temple before stroking her hair as she relaxed into him. It had been awhile since his daughter fell asleep in his arms and he sorely missed it. Lyanna was taking quite well to Winterfell. The noise and activity of the armory and smithy still frightened her but she’d stared in fascination the first time he took her to the stables. He’d heard tales of his mother and her love of horses and he liked the idea of his daughter being the same.

Jon stroked his daughter’s back as she grew still. He avoided meeting the eyes of his family, the childhood feeling of not quite belonging settled over him.

“Earlier today, both Jon and Sansa shared their intent to marry, a fortnight from now, with me. I congratulated each of you then but wish to do so again, in front of the family. In my excitement, I also forgot to ask Sansa’s permission to walk with her to the heart tree. I hope she will forgive me.”

That entire speech was a bald-faced lie, although a very good one. The entire room was quiet, absorbing Robb’s announcement. Later, Jon promised himself, he would thank his cousin. Robb not only gave his consent, he left no room for anyone to doubt his position.

“Robb,” Sansa sobbed. “Thank you.” She stood up to embrace her brother who briefly picked her up before releasing her.

Bran smiled his sweet smile. “That’s wonderful. Jon, you’ll be even more a part of our family than you already are.”

“Thank you, Bran.” He hugged his daughter, feeling an odd desire to keep her close.

“Congratulations, both of you,” said Arya. It was heartfelt. “Rickon, tell them you’re happy.” She tapped him on the head, not harshly.

“Why? Because they went and decided they are in love?” His cousin spoke with all the wisdom of a small child.

Others in the room quietly murmured their laughter. Lady Catelyn stayed silent. Jon supposed that should worry him but it did not. “Rickon, may I tell you a story about your sister?” Jon could feel Lady Catelyn’s eyes boring into him but he continued on. “We drifted for almost a day and a half with only a little water and a few oranges to share between the two of us. Later, after discovering land, we realized it was an island with no chance of escape or rescue. Sansa frightened me, she turned so pale, even her lips. She would not speak to me, no matter I said.” Jon still shuddered at the memory, he’d worried for her and for them. That fear was what led him to first bend his knee to her and swear vows. “We went in search of food and water. It was Sansa that first discovered the apple trees. She picked one and handed it to me, just so,” he paused to cup his two hands together before continuing, “and told me they were beautiful.”

“You ate that apple,” Sansa said accusingly. Her eyes were shining though.

“Aye, I did. We had no food and I was hungry. Still, you were right. It was beautiful, the different hues of pink and red, with gold streaks through it. Sansa thought they were beautiful and said there was magic on the island. I didn’t know what she meant that day, but I do now. After that, Sansa never let fear dictate her actions. I didn’t decide to love her, Rickon. Rather, how could I not after seeing what your sister can do?” Jon said nothing else, that was enough speech-making for the night.

“I don’t like apples.” Rickon was not impressed.

“Well I do,” said Bran. “That’s a beautiful story, Jon.”

Jon thanked him before glancing down at his daughter. Lyanna was asleep, lulled by the sound of his voice, he guessed. He would be forced to say goodnight to her soon.

Lady Catelyn’s stare went on. “There is a ghost in this room,” she said, voice strained. She stood to kiss Sansa’s brow. “We will make your bridal cloak together. I find myself growing tired. If you will excuse me.” Quickly, she left the room.

“What did I say?”

“You reminded her of our father, Jon,” answered Robb.

“Sansa, I’d like to help make your cloak,” said Arya.

Tears fell down her cheeks. “I would love for you to help me.”

Conversation drifted to lighter subjects after, for which Jon felt grateful. Eventually, the evening drew to a close as yawns began to make their appearance.

“Join us in my chambers tonight,” Sansa whispered to him as she made to take their daughter into her arms.

He glanced about, none of the Starks paid them attention. Jon nodded.

A fortnight later, they were wed in the godswood, by the heart tree. Sansa was clad in a gown of cream silk and velvet with her hair loose and maiden cloak streaming down her back. It was a small ceremony with only family and a few household members present. As they knelt before the weirwood, with its harsh face, Jon felt the ceremony was for those present rather than the couple marrying. Jon had long considered Sansa his wife, he did not need a heart tree or septon to make true what was already in his heart. The exchange of cloaks allowed him to present her as his wife to the world and meant their child growing in her would be trueborn, no more.

After, with their hands clasped together, Jon led her out of the godswood to the great hall for supper. There would be little in the way of feasting, at Sansa’s insistence. Their family had been surprised at her decision but Jon was not. The time for their celebration would be when they arrived in their new home. Sansa had only one request, that no fish or any other ocean-living animal be served. Their supper that night was no different than any other meal, a creamy leek soup, roasted ham, honey cakes, green salad and more. Jon was pleased that it featured none of the fare they ate on their island.

Lyanna sat in his lap for much of the meal, eating off her parents’ plates. It was the first time Jon announced himself as her father so openly. If the gathered household judge them for it, he could not tell. The gossip Sansa faced after they arrived was gone, Robb had kept his promise.

“I’m curious. Your sigil, I understand the wolf, but why the trees?”

Jon beamed with pride as he looked at Sansa attempting to teach Bran to dance before answering his new goodbrother. “The wolf is more than Stark colors reversed, the ship we travelled on was called _The White Wolf_. The three pines represent the trees I destroyed with the sword you gave me.” He’d recognized what Sansa had done from the start. There was a favor in their new chambers that bore the same sigil as well.

Robb nodded, understanding. “She told me. It explained her demand for you to show it to me that day I found you.”

That sword came back to Winterfell with them. It was a ruined mass, useless. If Sansa had the means, Jon was convinced she’d have donned full plate and rode a war horse that day to defend him. It made no matter now, they were married, and soon, they would have a home of their own. “Robb, thank you for all you’ve done for her and for us,” he said solemnly. “It could not have been easy to find us as you did.”

“Be good to her, that is all I ask.”

“I have a favor to beg of you.” Jon had debated this for the past fortnight, it needed to be asked. He lowered his voice before explaining, “Your father gave me almost the same education as you but it’s been four years,” he paused to rub at his neck nervously, “since it stopped.”

Another slow nod. “Be my shadow for awhile, I’ll be glad for the company.”

Jon pitied his cousin in some ways, this was not the first time he sensed loneliness in Robb. “Thank you.”

“May I?” Robb held out his arms. “Lyanna, do want to visit with your uncle?”

His daughter squealed before leaping out of his arms. It seemed to Jon as if she rarely got a chance to walk on her own, there was always one family member or another offering to hold her. Arya would be taking her for the night to give the two of them a chance alone. Sansa had been hesitant at first but her sister had shown herself to have a way with their child.

He left the two of them to their play in search of Sansa, neither seemed to notice his absence.

“Bran, will you pardon me? I wish to dance with my wife.” It was the first time Jon named her such to others.

His cousin cackled, enjoying himself. “Thank you for allowing me to dance with your wife.” He gave a bow with all the dignity a small boy could summon.

“Can you dance?”

“I suppose we'll find out.” They moved together in the corner of the great hall. Jon was conscious of eyes on them but he ignored it.

“You called me your wife.”

“I did.” Jon stilled before putting a hand on her shoulder so she would do the same. “You can expect me to say it everyday for the rest of our lives.” Bugger proper, Jon thought. He picked his wife up to twirl her around. Sansa’s skirts billowed out around them.

****

Catelyn had been unprepared by Robb’s announcement. Sansa’s return helped to ease the constant ache in her heart and Lyanna was easy to love, a child as sweet and gentle as her mother had once been.

Her daughter left Winterfell an innocent girl and eager to please. Catelyn wondered about the bastard boy who sailed with her and seduced her, who put another bastard child in her. Still, she said nothing. The night she learned of the betrothal, she’d wanted to shake Jon Snow, to ask what he’d done to her daughter. Then, he’d taken his own child into his arms and Catelyn’s heart filled with pain. He held his daughter the way Ned once held Sansa. He’d worn the same expression of pride Ned wore. It felt as if he was in the room with her and the pain was more than she could bear.

The next day, she composed herself and asked Robb if it was wise to allow them to marry. “This family has suffered enough heartache, mother. I won’t cause more,” he’d said. She’d said nothing then too.

A few days after their wedding, she noticed swelling under Sansa’s skirts. Her daughter had another child growing in her, had been since before she returned to them. She kept their secret, they were wedded and bedded, there was nothing to be done. Less than a moon later, Robb shared their news with her. Catelyn pretended surprise and wished them both well.

As the days and moons passed, Sansa’s belly grew. Catelyn would spy Jon Snow around the grounds with her grandchild. Each time, she would be struck by the sight and want to call out for her dear Ned. He loved his child with a fierceness that rivaled her husband’s, she could not deny that. It was his love for Sansa that she wondered over.

Finally, the day of Sansa’s labor was on them. Her pain started as they sewed quietly in her solar, Arya playing with her niece close by. Sansa shrieked and begged for her husband. Catelyn ignored that, insisting she go to the birthing room prepared for her. It was a woman’s place, husbands did not belong. It had been Ned’s way, to wait patiently until delivered the news of his new son or daughter. It was the way of all noble men.

The door slammed open and her goodson stood in the entry way. “Sansa,” he exclaimed.

“Jon,” Sansa wailed. “It hurts.”

Catelyn’s heart ached for her daughter, she moved to embrace her, only Jon Snow did the same. The man sat behind Sansa on the bed and pulled her into his arms. Maester Luwin asked what should be done so Cat bade him to leave the couple alone for a few minutes.

“I know it does, my love.” He kissed along Sansa’s brow and smoothed her hair away. “You were so brave once before. I need you to be brave again.”

“Brave, yes. I can be brave,” Sansa said hazily.

“Shall I tell you a story?”

“Our island. Tell me about our island.”

“Do you remember how our island came to be? Once long ago, a people lived there and they planted apple trees and other plants, until they were forced to flee. For countless years, the island sat alone in the great ocean, forgotten by all the world, until we came to find it. It sits alone once more, waiting until it is needed again.”

“Our house. Tell me how you built me a home.” Sansa’s lids drifted close and she moaned

It continued for hours until Catelyn noticed Jon’s voice had grown strained and Sansa no longer listened. Her body began to tremble from birthing pains. Through it all, Jon did not leave her side. Once, the maester kindly suggested he leave before the babe was delivered. Jon refused with a fierceness that almost frightened her.

Finally, it was done, and she had a grandson. “Sansa, you have a son,” Catelyn wrapped the babe in a blanket before giving him over to her daughter.

“A boy. Jon, we have a boy,” she said tiredly. Sansa’s face was red and slick with sweat.  “You were right.”

He wiped at his eyes. “Aye, you gave us a son.” Jon kissed her brow. “I love you so much, Sansa.”

“What’s his name?”

“Eddard, after your father.”

Pain twisted in her. Catelyn slipped from the room, unnoticed. The air moved and she felt what could have been her husband gently touching her hair as he once loved to do. “Ned? You have a grandson,” she whispered into the empty space around her. “He looks like his father and like you.”

She dried her eyes and went in search of her family. Her grief was a private thing and she would not share it with her family. Someday, Catelyn Stark knew, her time would come and she would be with her sweet Ned once more, but not yet.

Catelyn delivered the news of her first grandson and listened to the cries of joy about her. Eventually, she drew Robb to the side to finish her final task of the day. Jon Snow was a bastard and would always be a bastard. The same could not be said of his daughter. She could give this to them.


	25. Chapter 25

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> An ending.

Jon leaned against the armory wall, content to observe all the noise and chaos around him. Servants scurried about, checking the carts to ensure their contents were well secured. Sansa seemed determined to bid every member of their household a good bye at least twice. Stable boys hitched the dray horses. Lyanna felt the excitement of it all, running between legs with girlish squeals of delight. He saw Bran try to pick her up but she quickly slipped from his grasp and escaped. He left the wall, in pursuit of his daughter.

They were leaving Winterfell together once more, setting off as they did five years earlier. The first time, he’d been a callow youth, restless and eager to experience life’s adventures. Now, he was something else, possessed of knowledge few his age had, and, in other ways, still a green boy. Jon had not fought in battle or drawn blood as Robb had and he was not quite yet lord of his own household.

“Jon.” Catelyn Stark blocked his path, preventing his pursuit of Lyanna. She wore her hair in a single thick braid. He’d noticed Sansa adopting the style more and more of late.

“Lady Stark.” He did not know what else to say. They were courteous with each other but rarely spoke directly, and never without Sansa’s presence. “Lyanna will miss you. She’s grown to love her grandmother very much.”

“Catelyn, please,” she said before handing him a scroll. The seal was broken but still recognizable. “This arrived less than an hour ago. Two more copies travel via ship to White Harbor. I will have them forwarded on to you.”

Jon took the parchment from her hands, taking notice of the Baratheon stag. He remembered Robert’s hatred of the Targaryen family and worry fell over him. Jon glanced towards Sansa who chattered happily with Arya, unaware of his conversation with her mother, before unrolling the scroll and reading its contents. His heart stuttered. “Lady...Catelyn….I don’t know what to say,” he stammered. “Thank you, from all of us.”

“You look at her as Ned once looked at me.” She clasped his hand, squeezing tight. “He would be proud of you, Jon. Keep them safe for me.”

“I will.” They said their goodbyes and she departed, leaving Jon standing alone. He read the scroll once more, still not quite believing it. Both his children would be members of their new House, the first to bear the name of Snowpine.

“If I’d known how much I'd enjoy your presence these past several moons, I would never have agreed to this scheme.” Robb was grinning though, proving his words false.

Jon had spent a great deal of time with his cousin over the past several moons, learning much from him. “And suffer your sister’s wrath?”

“True.” He nodded, his expression almost dour before another grin took him. “I have news of my own. Margaery is with child, she informed me only last night,” he said proudly.

“Congratulations, Robb, truly.” Jon had noticed a growing closeness between Robb and his new wife. On occasion, Sansa spent her afternoon at needlework with Margaery. His wife seemed to think she was becoming rather besotted with Robb. Jon hoped that was so. He glanced towards Sansa once more, she was waiting for him. “Love is truly one of life’s strangest gifts. Once, your sister shoved me in water before throwing mud at me. Another time, she threw all my clothes into the dirt and told me to never be in her presence again. Now though-”

“She’s still my little sister,” Robb said, interrupting him. “I think you are right, even so.”

“Thank you Stark, for everything.”

“You too, Snow. Take care of Sansa for me.”

“I will.”

He left Robb, wanting to be close to Sansa.

“I have your daughter.” Arya handed Lyanna over. He took her in his arms, Lyanna cackling happily the entire time. It was still morning and already her hair was a mass of snarls. “You can expect a visit from me shortly. I overheard my mother asking Robb to invite Rickard Karstark and his sons to visit Winterfell.”

“Understood.” They said their good-byes and Jon embraced her before mussing her hair as he so often did when they were younger. “Come soon. All of us will miss you.”

“I want down. I want walk,” said his daughter in the girlish commanding voice she so often used of late.

“No, if I let you down, you’ll only run away again. Besides, we will be riding ponies soon.” That worked, as Jon hoped it would. Lyanna settled against him contentedly.

“Shall we go?”

“Jon.” Sansa’s eyes shone as tears threatened to spill over.

“My love, what’s wrong?” He used his free hand to stroke her cheeks, stopping the tears as they fell.

“We’re going home, to the castle we built so long ago.”

“Aye, we are.” He ceased to notice the people around them, their noise and activity fading away. Jon looked down at his wife as she held little Eddard in her arms. His son briefly opened his sleepy eyes, the gray matching Jon’s own, before his lids drifted shut. “This time, our castle will be made with stone and Snow.”

Another tear fell. “Stone and Snow and the magic from our island.” Jon knew what she meant now. They discovered Sansa’s magic on the island, it was found in the strength they drew from the other. Jon did not think anyone else but them would ever truly realize quite what they meant by it.

Jon pressed his lips to hers, mindful that they were still in the yard and in the presence of others. “I love you.”

It was three days ride to their new home, just as Robb had once told Sansa. Jon had visited twice before, with his cousin, to see the lands and nearby village. The castle itself was small, when compared to Winterfell. However, they would draw incomes from several nearby farms and a pair of mills, as well as the village itself.

“Jon. Three towers? It has three towers. I don’t understand. You said it had only two but there are three,” Sansa said breathlessly, speaking so quickly, Jon could scarcely understand her.

“I lied.” He smiled gently. “I wanted to see you here, in this moment, when you made the discovery. It’s our dream. Are you pleased?”

“Pleased? I have my husband, and my children, and our three towers. We have our dream.” She drew her horse closer to his before clasping his hand with her own. Sansa’s grasp was tight enough he could see the white of her knuckles. “You will think I’m mad for saying it, but I believe the gods sent us to that island. They knew we needed each other.”

Jon thought the fire on the ship was a simpler explanation but he did not say that. “We found our way to each other, that’s all that matters. Shall we go?” He nodded towards the gate still several paces in front of them.

They passed through the gate and into the courtyard. The walls were made of wood rather than stone but the towers themselves were all stone, the largest of the three sat in the middle of the castle grounds. The godswood lay in the furthest corner, with the red tree top of the heart tree standing tallest. The armory and guards hall stood next to each other. The smithy and stables were on the furthest side of the yard.

Jon dismounted first, before setting Lyanna on the ground. She let out one of her infamous squeals before leaving him to explore. He moved next to his wife, helping her down before holding his son in his arms. “Do you know its name yet?”

This was a decision they’d made together, after Robb’s announcement. They would not give the castle a name until they both stood within its walls. “Yes. Snow Towers, named for what we dreamed of and for who we are.”

Jon choked up. Sansa named herself a Snow, choosing the bastard name. “It’s a beautiful name,” he said, voice breaking. “Do you wish to meet your new household?”

Her eye’s flashed. “Yes. Household first and then we can set to unpacking and touring our new chambers.”

Lyanna stood close by, staring at another little girl her age curiously. She took Sansa’s hand easily though, staying by her mother’s side for the remainder of the day. The hours passed quickly until they were alone once more. Their daughter was asleep in the nursery and Eddard rested in his cradle. He still woke during the night to nurse and Sansa was not ready to have space between them while she slept.

Their bed chamber lay at the top of the largest tower, with a generously sized solar attached to it. There was no separate lady’s chamber, a detail that he did not worry over. Jon hoped to never spend another night apart from his wife.

He sat on their bed, clad only in his breeches and legs crossed, content to watch Sansa as she took out her braid and brushed her hair smooth. “Are you happy?”

Sansa set down her brush. Jon smiled, noticing it was the very one he fished from the ocean so long ago. “Happy seems a small word to describe how I feel.” She crossed the room, sitting across from him. She wore nothing under her robe. Jon could see her sweet flesh under the loosely tied garment. “I have something for us but I have not taken it yet.”

His brow furrowed in puzzlement. “What is it?”

“I paid a visit to Maester Luwin a few days before we left Winterfell to ask for moon tea.” His expression must have worried her as she began speaking quickly. “I have not taken any, I swear it. I would never do it without speaking to you.”

Jon pulled her close to kiss her. He felt the tips of her fingers glide up his sides before settling on his shoulders. “I would never accuse you.” He feathered another kiss across her lips. “Tell me.”

“I want us to fill these castle grounds with children, but, we are both young still and this is all so new to us. If you agreed, it seemed a good idea to wait a year or two before we have another child. Remember what you said when we learned of little Eddard? You have quite the talent at putting babes in me.”

Jon did not answer right away. Lyanna would have no memory of their time on the island, she quickly adapted to life in Winterfell. It was different for them though. Jon would still find himself stripping down and climbing the heart tree or disappearing into the wolfs wood for an hour or two. On occasion, he and Sansa would forget to use a fork or would find themselves beginning to sit on the floor rather than a chair. At night, Sansa would instantly wake if he left the bed to piss or take a sip of water, as if frightened he would leave. He nodded in agreement. “That is true,” he said with mock seriousness. “We have years to fill castle grounds, my love. We can take a year or two to be a family, the four of us together.”

One of Sansa’s fingers grazed across his lower lip. He kissed it. She traced his features, moving along his jaw line and then his nose. “Our strength was always in each other. We will grow old together, until our hair turns gray and our skin wrinkles. I love you.”

“I love you.” He kissed her once more, gently laying Sansa against the bed as he did so. “That will be our House words.”

“What will be?”

“ _Strength in Each Other._ ” Jon kissed his wife and felt her arms encircling his neck. They were home.

*****

Sansa sat alone in their solar, her work spread out on the table in front of her. She started the piece over three years ago, shortly after they took up residence in Snow Towers, and it was still not quite done. Her fingers traced the blue of the water. It had been a search to find the right shade to match the rich blue of their shining waters. Eventually, Jon had sent out to White Harbor to find her thread. The last section remained, four figures on a beach, one still a babe, with a ship in the distance.

The wooden door slammed open and a girl with red hair and smudges of dirt on her cheeks ran into the room. “I rode my pony! I rode my pony!”

Jon followed after, a boy of three years, sitting on his shoulders. “Only in the bailey,” he explained. He sat Eddard down. “In a few more days, we can do a bit more.”

Little Eddard pulled himself into her lap for a kiss. “How did my sweet boy do?”

“I rode my pony!” Their son loved to do all that his older sister did.

Jon raised his hands defensively. “I held him the entire time.”

Eddard left her lap to play with his small collection of toy knights.

“What are you making?”

Sansa smiled at her daughter’s question. She’d worked on this many times before in her presence. “Come see. It’s a magical story.” Lyanna came to rest in the chair next to her. “It’s the story of a true knight and his lady. See here,” she paused to point at the first section. “He rescues her from a sinking ship and takes her to safety, to an island filled with magic. Here, he swears himself to her service and vows to love and honor her for all his remaining days.”

“What’s that?”

Sansa stroked the rich green of the three pine trees. “This is where the knight fought to build a home for his lady love, to keep her safe. Next to it, this copse of trees, is where they declared their love for each other.”

“Who are those men?”

“Those men wanted to steal the lady away to hurt her. So, the knight kept her hidden away in a cave while he made them leave, forever making sure that she would be safe.” Sansa could feel Jon’s hand coming to rest on her shoulder before stroking the strands of her hair. “The knight and lady were deeply in love, and, eventually, they swore to spend their lives together and never be parted. Then, one day, a ship arrived, and they had to leave their magical island.”

“Where did they go?”

It was Jon’s turn to answer. “They went to their new home, where they loved each other more with every day that passed.”

“You should make the knight fight a dragon.” Lyanna stood up from her chair. “I’m going to play with Beth.” Their daughter raced from the room, to play with her beloved friend.

“Sansa, I’m not a knight.”

She turned to face him so her blue eyes met his gray ones. Sansa reached for his hand, pulling at it so he cupped her cheek. “You are the truest knight of any man I’ve known, Jon Snow.” She stared up at him. Jon had spoken true, she fell in love with her husband more with every day that passed.

“You made us a story. It’s truly beautiful.”

“We are a story, you and I.” The tapestry was her effort to create the history of their House and how it came to be. After they were gone, their island would disappear from the world elsewise and she could not bear for that to happen. “Could we eat here in the solar as a family rather than in the hall tonight?”

“Are we ready to celebrate then?”

“You know,” she accused.

Jon quietly laughed. “Aye, I know. You stopped taking that tea four moons ago and I’ve become rather familiar with my wife’s body. Come here.” He gently pulled her up until she stood in his arms. “I’m quite good at putting children in you.”

Sansa felt tears welling in her eyes. She rested her head on his chest.

“My love, what’s wrong?”

“Nothing, nothing at all. I would say I’m happy but it’s a small word to describe how I feel.” Jon hand cupped her chin to tilt her head back. He kissed her.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I can't believe this is done. I'm excited but also grieving. Thank you to all of you who commented, created mood boards, and recced this on tumblr. It kept me going and many scenes in this story are inspired by hearing from each of you. 
> 
> A special thanks to Janina, Vivi, and Jeannette who have listened to my plot ideas, reassured me when I needed reassurance, and gave me feedback several times while writing this.


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